


Fifteen days till Christmas

by crazyforthisloki



Series: All Year Holidays! [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:04:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 42,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2755472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyforthisloki/pseuds/crazyforthisloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the fifteen days before Christmas, Arthur Pendragon's life makes a sudden, unexpected and refreshing change when he meets for the first time the oddest, mots adorable and exciting person he can only remember by his unique sight: Merlin "Cheekbones" Emrys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Santa Claus is Coming to Town

**Author's Note:**

> A very Merthur Christmas. The story starts today, Thursday the 12th and ends rightfully so on the 25th. Enjoy and have everybody a Happy Christmas!

Is not that Arthur hated Christmas, it was that Christmas hated him and he felt he ought to reciprocate the feeling in some way. And the saddest part of all it was he wasn’t entirely sure why this happened and it happened, every year like clockwork. At first, he had thought perhaps there were just some casual coincidences like the first Christmas he had spent on his new flat and the power went off on Christmas Eve so he had to spend the night outside in the cold while everybody else celebrated. But then, when on his fifth Christmas his lovely and thoroughly decorated tree had caught fire while its lights had been off, he started to think that perhaps there was something else, something greater and beyond his power like destiny or God’s uncharted wrath, that was preventing him from celebrating properly the holiday. Of course a normal person would not have paid any attention to it and carry on with his life normally but since Arthur wasn’t up to keep on tainting faith with a next “odd coincidence” he had made a vow to leave Christmas be a joyous and blissful holiday... very very far away from him.

He still bought presents for his friends and acknowledged the importance of the whole deal, he just did not do anything related to it: he didn’t decorate, traditional food and sweets were out of his mouth’s reach, the films and music he saw and listened through the period were the same ones he saw on any other time of the year and he made damn sure he stayed away from any fancy dinners or parties. Basically he was the human equivalent if the Grinch had never decided to pursue his hatred for Christmas and just had stayed far away in his cave. Which also meant there was no heartfelt revelation in the end of his story -his heart wasn’t going to increase its size- and the only lovely music he would be listening to on the morning of the 25th would be his favourite: anything but Christmas carols.

Of course his reluctance to bond over the holiday season was very well known by his friends and close acquaintances but there was always that someone who either didn’t know or was adamant of inserting his or her own holiday spirit on him --as if they didn’t know he had almost choke to death one time over a small piece of a candy cane (which of course they didn’t know because almost dying from Christmas sweets wasn’t something he was very keen on flaunting to the rest). So when Elena, the bubbly art consultant at his company showed up on his office that morning with a red and green parcel under her arm, Arthur was sure he needed to prepare himself for any sort of possible outcome. What if inside was a small elf made out of ginger and a piece of his foot hurt his eyes? Again?

“Happy Christmas Arthur” she said with excitement giving him the package and staring back at him, clearly anxious to measure the reaction to her gesture. He couldn’t truly be mad at her, after all she was very new at the building and this was her very first big festivity celebrating in the place. If anything was ought to be considered, she was doing the most normal thing in the world. “It’s nothing really but you don’t have too many decorations here...” she said glancing around his empty and white office, no trace of anything red or green in sight, something that he was actually proud of, “And I thought it would be a nice thing to have some Christmas around you during our day”

He considered for a couple of brief seconds turning down the present but he couldn’t just be that rude to her (actually, he couldn’t be truly rude to anybody who looked like a puppy on a high dose of sugar almost every single second). “Thank you Elena” he said, trying to find the perfect combination between grabbing the parcel with proper care and not getting himself too close at it at the risk of the thing imploding on his hand and then losing his fingers. Arthur tried to remind himself he wasn’t really overreacting with this thought, he had after all almost lost his left hand that time the turkey had exploded while he took it out of the oven the first (and only) time he had tried to make a dinner for his then boyfriend Cenred.

Elena left him with a beaming smile in her face as Arthur thought very carefully if it was best to just toss the thing into the bin now or wait to do it at home. It wasn’t that he was dead inside or he hated the idea of exchanging gifts. It was just pure survival instinct: Christmas couldn’t get to him if he stayed away from it. And this thing, he thought, this little red with green and visibly harmless at first sight was a big notorious flag of holiday spirit for him. He just couldn’t risk it. “Sorry” he mumbled as he put it inside his desk, at the lowest drawer under a big pile of papers as if a bunch of useless data was going to protect him from it. Perhaps things were taken a turn for the overly dramatic if he honestly thought he had to protect himself from a meaningless little present.

**~~~~~~~**

It was probably nothing too important, he thought for the tenth time as he took his afternoon coffee still seating in his office. Nothing, it wasn’t even something she had put too much thought on it; surely Elena had not gone to too much trouble to get him something too fancy. A craft, he reassured himself finally. A simple and ordinary craft, what value was on those things?

Many if it was done with care and attention, devoting many hours of her time to finish it properly and giving it to you, a small voice inside his head started to nag him... Well, if one put it like that. And what if Elena asked him the next day what he had thought of it? Arthur was many things but a good liar was definitely not one (although cooker, painter, singer, and star dancer didn’t qualify in that list either). Curse his lack of will power and obnoxious conscience, he thought as he opened the drawer back retreating the parcel from beneath its burial of sheets. “Okay” he told himself, mumbling while his fingers found the most innocent string in the wrapper to pull, “But if this explodes or kills me, then I deserve a monument for my good intentions”

The box didn’t implode. His face and limbs were still intact once the wrapper had been thoroughly discarded so he ought to consider this a personal victory on his behalf. Of course, he made sure he didn’t celebrate too much jinxing his own good fortune with a last second mild explosion of dancing reindeer.

But there was no dancing Rudolph waiting for him inside, just a simple small box of chocolate with a small card on top of it. “ _You do need some sweet things in life_ ”. He wasn’t entirely certain if he should take the fact that his lack of Christmas spirit had become so well known as a compliment or a wakeup call. Instead of thinking of the social ramifications besides this detail, Arthur opened the chocolates with one eye closed for precaution and started to enjoy a tiny pinch of sugar.

Oh yeah, he thought, this was definitely it.

**~~~~~~**

“I’m so glad you liked them!” Elena said with a big cheeky grin on her face when he had gone to her office after thirty minutes of devouring her present to ask her where she had bought them. Not because he was too interested on eating more and more of them (he was not, thank you very much) but because he had come to the conclusion they actually made a very thoughtful present for somebody else. And if he ended buying twenty boxes as presents for his friends even when he actually had only five of them and ate the remaining fifteen packages himself... then there wasn’t really too much he could do about it. Destiny and stuff would excuse him for it.

He gave his best fake and caring smile as Elena told him her fears at the idea he might hate the brand or that he might be allergic to some ingredient and then he would end up dead on his office because of her so close to the holidays and killing him before he could have experienced proper Christmas joy would have been a terrible shame for everybody. But especially to him because Christmas was that magical time of the year when everybody was happy and everyone had an excuse to smile at each other. After almost fifteen minutes, Arthur had lost count on how many times he had said an understanding “Yes” or simply nodded letting her know he understood all of it. Maybe this was his punishment for seeking out to feel the same holiday sweetness again; if so, he was prepare to add a new score to Christmas on the score board he was most certainly not carrying.

“So I was walking down the street really close to my flat when I looked at the store and saw the small box and thought, this is definitely something Arthur will enjoy”

Arthur zoned out from the memories of that time Santa had been arrested just before it had been his turn to make a wish for harassing the elves in the break room. Now he was on to something, all that it take now was finding a subtle and relaxed way of asking her for directions without implying he wanted to know where she lived because that might send the wrong idea of his intentions.

“Where is the store?”

Smooth Pendragon, really smooth.

Elena simply smiled knowingly and wrote down quickly on her sketch book for an address on a street Arthur was very sure he had never ever heard of.

Was he truly risking himself embarking into truly unknown territory on December just for a box of fairly decent (yet incredibly addicting and delicious) chocolates?, he asked himself as he looked for the store on Google Maps on his office computer.

**~~~~~~**

It was a very standard and basic military technique (not that Arthur had ever gone to the army but he had watched The Thin Red Line and even with all the editing and camera work, he was sure he had understood the basics of the story). Out of the car, into the store, find the chocolates, pay for them, out of store, into the car. It shouldn’t take him more than five minutes and he wasn’t counting on making any friends there so he wasn’t going to waste any time talking to any kind stranger trying to make small talk at him. Out, in, find, pay, out, in. It sounded like the most boring and scheduled sex position in history but it was a good plan.

And of course as fate sets itself to unfold, everything went to shit the minute he steps inside the store. Arthur knows is Christmas but he hardly thinks is really necessary to be practically blasting “Santa Claus is coming to town” through every available speaker on every possible corner in the shop. Yet there’s nothing left for him to do about it, he’ll have to man up and purchase his chocolates like a responsible grown man.

Apparently Elena had lied to him because the green box wasn’t anywhere near the display on the window so his idea of being in and out in only five minutes was very much ruined the second he started to roam around the shelves looking for the elusive box. Arthur searched through endless lines and columns of different types of sweets and candies -not really bothering on memorizing or pretending he cared for their stupid and silly names- with a mixture of both dread and bother for them. He felt as his head might be on the brink of exploding with the pictures of bearded men smiling at him, the elves and their hats with bells on the top and the cheeky reindeer (Oh, how he was hating those useless creatures by now) when finally his eyes found the object of his desire and troubles. Arthur’s hand was just about to reach it when it disappeared from his sight as one very pale hand with very long fingers snatched from his grip with the coldness and incivility of a stranger who has no idea how important the chocolates were for him. The strange man disappeared before Arthur could say a word and as his eyes look behind the empty hole the box left behind, his heart sunk with the realization that the last box had been taken away in front of him.

His eyes started to search frantically for the mysterious stranger but all he could really tell apart were masses of happy families walking around him carrying their own purchases and not really caring for his own personal drama. Which was inadmissible because in those precious seconds, Arthur’s only glimpse of Christmas joy had just been stolen from him and nobody was reacting. Where was this man for him to tackle and take his chocolates away with his dignity intact? He searched through every corridor looking for someone whose hands might resemble in any way those of the criminal (because stealing holiday bliss from somebody else ought to be an actual crime in some constitution around the world, Arthur was certain of it) when he was taken aback by a pair of blue eyes staring at him from a far corner near the cashier. Arthur focussed his eyes on the face those eyes guarded (malicious cheekbones and surreal ears sticking out, a mope of almost black hair but than in the light looks slightly lighter and a risible red scarf around a long and pale neck) before his eyes lowered to the small almost imperceptible object the man held with his long fingers. He was about to say -practically scream to the entire crowd- how that man stole him his chocolates when the other cut him short displaying the widest (almost breathtaking) smile he had seen in a very very -very very- long time before lifting the green box in front of his face and disappearing behind a parade of mothers and children demanding more sugar.

Arthur ran to the cashier but the man was gone and he’s sure he probably gave an old and sweet grandma a heart attack when he had stormed into the line with quite possibly the wildest face he had ever shown to the world before. He quickly went outside but there was no sight of the man.

One time when he had been almost six years old his nanny had told him there was only one period in the whole year magic actually had a chance to become a reality and that time was Christmas. At this point Arthur wasn’t even surprised by the fact that Christmas magic had found its way to work against him... as it always did.

**~~~~~~**

Arthur went back to his flat, some small dots from sweat sticking under his arms and the need for some sugar on his blood, grumbling like a bitter old man for his chocolates. He still wasn’t very sure what had actually happened back there in the shop besides the obvious: that man (more like, those cheekbones) had challenged him by stealing right in front of him the box. The cheekbones had to have known Arthur was after it and had taken it just to spite him; he probably didn’t even like the brand, he thought trying to reassure himself and failing. He didn’t know what he could do if he ever found out the man had thrown the box to the trash the minute he had been gone from the shop. He’ll haunt the other down until he paid for the offence...

Well, perhaps that was a bit too much even for him.

Besides it wasn’t as if he was too keen on searching and finding the stranger. He was just another bad memory on Arthur’s personal lane of bad Christmas memories --he’ll file him up under “Cheekbones and Chocolates” and move on with his life.

 

December was looking to be a very long month, he thought as he parked outside a small little store to buy some ginger bread and candy canes. He needed to ease this urge for sugar and flavour for once and for all before he went to bed to forget the day.

 


	2. We Wish You a Merry Christmas

Fridays weren’t either Arthur’s favourite or most hated day of the week. He had no real emotions for any of the days but there was something about Fridays that he couldn’t really explain; it wasn’t joy but neither disgust and in Arthur’s book anything that falls on that middle ground was more than better for him.

Arthur had moved past the incident with the chocolates of the previous day, thank you very much and he had only frowned and grumbled three times when Elena had mentioned the present throughout the day. If he didn’t call that progress, then his life might grew an inch more on the sadness board (that no one was carrying).

The caller on the phone was very well known for Arthur and especially on this time of the year but he still didn’t know any educated ways to turn down a call from Gwen... yet, you can never lose hope in your life.

“Guinevere” he said answering her fifth call of the week, on every day on the same hour (just an hour before he left the office) with the same ulterior reason behind. “I’m very well and fine, my hate for Christmas is still intact and no, I do not wish to come over your place for dinner”

“You know Arthur? Sometimes I hear you through the phone and I can almost, just almost, think you are human”

“I see this new boyfriend of yours has given you a sense of humour now”

“Yes, my four year husband has done wonders to my personality”

_Four years?_ he thought for a moment considering how fast time moves around him. He knew that if he put a lot of effort to the task he could still remember the first time he had met Guinevere at university and how smitten she had been the moment he had introduced her to her future husband Lance (someone Arthur had never have any sort of feelings for, his attraction had always been strictly platonic and he was never going to admit he had dreamt once about Lance’s luscious hair doing things to him, never) and that had been about seven years ago. Time does certainly flies when your life doesn’t move too much.

“Please do come so you can meet my new boyfriend” she pleaded and he didn’t have to be in the room to know she is given him her best impression of a baby deer begging for a hug. Arthur’s certain that Gwen’s expressions could send Disney’s animators to the ruin just for the loveliness of her natural self. “It’s Friday, you’re doing nothing, I have too much food and it’s Chr...”

“Don’t!” Arthur interrupted her before she could pull what she calls the “big gun”. “You know you can’t use than one me, I’m immune”

“Yes, that sounds very normal and sane Arthur”. He groaned in response and Gwen possibly jumped out of this success because he had no excuse and he didn’t want to tempt faith by turning Guinevere down five times in one week. God knows what sort of ironic punishment faith might have in store for those who bring sadness in to those deep and dark eyes.

“One condition” Arthur tried to say with his best and most confident tone to reassert he still had some sort of control over the whole situation. “No Christmas carols”

Gwen agreed immediately and Arthur groaned again. Now it was most certain that it was going to be every single imagined and conceived Christmas song playing over dinner.

Over and over and over again.

**~~~~~~**

“Jesus Morgana did nobody told you, you don’t live here so you can’t open the door” he says at the sight of his sister in front of him receiving his bottle of wine (because he’s no caveman and no dinner is complete without a proper Merlot by the side). She, of course, looked unimpressed by his witty words and let him inside smirking at him as he was still on his suit and tie.

The fact was Morgana, being Gwen’s best friend thought she had every right to spend every imaginable minute of every day by her friend’s home as if she lived there like a weird and dominant third part of their marriage. Arthur couldn’t know for real if this behaviour was very common on other married couples and their best friends because a) he didn’t have a partner to share his life with and, b) he didn’t have a best friend to share his life with. As he greeted Gwen, who was covered in flour and Lance who was struggling to light up some lights above the dining room table, Arthur realized that probably had been the saddest list he had ever made in the day. But the night was still young, he still had plenty of opportunities to prove himself how much pathetic his life could be.

“Oh good, the Grinch has descended from his cave” a voice from behind Arthur said. Lance did a fantastic bad job at trying to hide his laughter when he turned around to greet Gwaine. He was convinced the only reason he put out with the man was because he couldn’t imagine a life without seeing that beautiful mane every now and then but sometimes he seriously considered going to a cave so he didn’t have to deal with him any longer.

“Hello Gwaine” he said with a polite smile, “I see you are fit for the occasion” he added when a pair of reindeer antlers peaked from the forest of maroon scalp.

“You know me princess; I’m on holiday spirit all year long”

“I don’t doubt it” he said to himself as Gwaine disappeared to the kitchen, probably to steal some food before the table was set.

“Arthur, would you mind lending me a hand here” Lance said from his right as he still struggled to keep a whole string of white lights from not falling over his head and the table. He actually considered for a whole second, the idea of him getting involved with electricity on Christmas period, before he politely declined.

“Oh no please” Morgana said laughing from the kitchen window that led to the dining and living room where they were standing. “Arthur doesn’t do very well with complicated things around Christmas”. There’s a snort in the back, most likely from Gwaine, before Lance gives him a look filled with pity as if he was some cripple puppy he had seen on the streets. He can’t blame the man for feeling bad about him but he’s not a big of fan of being seen as a small poor boy that can’t handle joy. He can, and he has in the past (having felt happiness once is one of his favourite memories) it was just that he couldn’t risk at being blissful on this time of year. Most people got it and some of them move on with their lives not bothering on searching further for reasons but some people, like Lance right now, wanted to know the truth behind it and comfort him with a strangely looking sweater and some presents.

Arthur is now used to these displays of affection and he has developed a very successful system to turn those moments.

“Remember that time you almost bleed to death when you tried to wrap Uther a present with the paper?”

“Yes Morgana” he nodded awkwardly. How could he forget the evil grins on those snowmen as he saw his entire life pass in front of his eyes as he felt his blood leave his body? He still felt the sting of the paper cut on his hand every time he glanced at a snowman on the park.

“It’s okay, I’ll help you” Gwaine announced sauntering from behind him as he walked to aid Lance with his ordeal. “I’m here to install all the joy Arthur sucks in”

The comment only managed to hurt him a little before Gwen showed her face from the kitchen, smiling and very pleased with the delightful event she had prepared for the night, informing them dinner was ready.

**~~~~~~**

In the end, the meatloaf was good, the roast potatoes too and the Merlot had been excellent (of course) and Arthur’s mood had stayed fairly decent through the whole evening. It was only when the doorbell had rang that something else set inside his chest; something called a bad feeling and Arthur wasn’t fond of them.

“Are we expecting further company?” Morgana asked.

“Not really” Gwen said looking confused for a second before getting up from the top of the table and walking to the front door. “Must be our neighbours” she said as if that explained everything. Arthur had no idea what could possibly Gwen and Lance’s neighbours could be asking them at this time of the hour --actually he had no idea what did neighbours did to each other regarding social protocol, he had made a general rule of avoiding them when he had noticed they tended to exchange small cards around Christmas season around the building. Lance nodded knowingly and Arthur thought this was a game everyone was playing and that no one had invited him over to explain the rules. He wasn’t used to being left out.

“C’mon” he said to them getting up and walking to the door, “It’s lovely what they do every year”. Arthur had no idea what they did every year or whether it was lovely or not and frankly, he was quite alright without knowing; in fact, someone might say he was even perfect without knowing. Why mess with perfection then? He thought before Gwaine dragged him by the arm to the threshold where Morgana, Gwen and Lance were standing with stars in their eyes as a group of almost ten people sang “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”.

Arthur took a couple of steps back inside before Gwaine’s strong grip held him on his position behind Lance like a cornered animal looking with fear at the very public and very obvious display of Christmas joy. In his experience, these things always ended with someone passing out in the snow or the police arriving in the nick of time because one of the main singers had been using a fake I.D. and living a double life as the owner of a music shop... But then again, what were the odds of that happening twice to him?

He smiled coldly as the lyrics filled the ambience before his eyes caught something disturbing. Two things, actually, two very bright and blue and disturbing things.

Just in the far corner in the right, behind an elderly woman sporting probably seven layers of sweaters and a Indian man with a Santa hat on top of his eyes, Cheekbones sang smiling at everyone and everything. Arthur wondered how he could do something so kind for the community when he was in fact a criminal, a thief none the less, even though he looked as harmless as a kitty inside a tea cup. And no, Arthur had no idea how a kitty inside a tea cup (framed in a silver and blue frame on top of his night stand) looked like.

It wasn’t possible for Cheekbones to have known Arthur was going to be there at that moment and he assumed that had been his first mistake... Well, actually his second being the first stealing his chocolates and disappearing (although he wasn’t so sure if perhaps deciding to sing Christmas carols for his neighbours might have been his second mistake, making this encounter his third one, but if he had decided to sing for the community long before the chocolates incident then, that had been his first mistake making the meeting his fourth one because he had decided to repeat the experience.... Yes, that seemed reasonable enough for him). What was important now was that Arthur was unto him and he was going to make him pay for his hideous deed, he was going to bring hell to him, he was going to.... clap very shortly at the end of the song. That’ll show him.

“Very beautiful” Gwen said after they had all finished clapping -Arthur only finishing one second before everyone else to his satisfaction- and all the singers had taken a bow for their gratefulness.

The singers thanked them and started to make their way to the house next door when Arthur felt the familiar weight of somebody else’s eyes on him. He looked for a second to the blue eyes that seemed to pierce him and shine with angelical (wait, what?) gleam at him before entering back inside. It was only for a single second, so short clocks probably didn’t even considerer it as a real fraction of time, but he was sure that the stranger had _winked_ at him before vanishing into the dark and white exterior on the other end of the door.

As they made their way back into the living room, Gwen humming to the song’s tune all along, Arthur searched through their expressions looking for signs: he either wanted to know if someone else noticed it so he can both deny what happened but also, have some confirmation that it actually had occurred so he could establish he wasn’t insane. But since nobody was doing anything and the conversation had easily turned into the latest film Morgana had gone to see, Arthur could calmly assured himself and forget that anything happened at all.

**~~~~~~**

After a couple of hours, Arthur was too tired to try and keep making more small talk. He had covered all the basics: work, the office and what he did every day so... work again. Gwaine of course had made the mandatory question regarding Elena’s good health trying to be a stealth as possible, concealing his curiosity as good as someone as obvious as Gwaine could do, and Gwen had given him more food for the rest of the winter as if Arthur actually was a family of thirteen and not his own bachelor self. He supposed he couldn’t start complaining since now he didn’t have to cook dinner till the next year, even when it was proper Christmas food but then again, how many times a person can get food poisoning from eating badly frozen food?

Surely those were the sort of accidents that only happened once in a lifetime and since Arthur had been in the hospital for it twice in the last two decades, he had his share settled.

There was a small and thin layer of fresh snow on top of his car as he walked back when a bright object caught his eye. Given that snow is solid water, of white colour and it melts with the human touch, Arthur could safely assume the metal box on top of his car was not snow. He looked around the empty parking lot, thinking perhaps the owner had accidentally forgotten to pick up his box from his car before he realized it was no ordinary box. Quickly he started searching for a pair of blue eyes and high cheekbones mocking him from a distance but all he could see was white snow, the distant lights from inside a group of houses and the green chocolate box in his hands. Arthur didn’t know what he would do if he found those eyes again, whether to slap him or... something else less violent, for this sort of insult. Because it had to be that, an insult, a mockery, an offending gesture against his good self.

He got inside his car, tossing the box to the backseat and bitterly hummed alone that awful carol Cheekbones had had the nerve to sing in front of him before leaving him with a wink and an empty box.

It meant nothing, Arthur repeated quietly, it meant nothing and that song was awful and that was the end of the whole affair.

Period.

 


	3. Jingle Bells

Since Arthur was a civilized man, and another man dressed up as Santa stood outside his office building every morning teasing him with his bells and his beard and his good intentions asking for a small contribution to the aiding children of the city, he donated money every morning thinking his help might ease Fate’s ideas on how miserable it could make Arthur’s day.

He supposed it was working since until now (ignoring the thing that rhymed with something-bones that he was most certainly ignoring) his Christmas season had gone without further incident. At least, that was what Arthur told himself that Saturday morning as he dressed up and took out his car back to the office so he could give his contribution even though it took him thirty minutes to do a one minute action. For the untrained eye, he might come off as insane but for the trained eye in what he called “His Christmas Situation” he did come off as insane. Either way he was going.

As it was the usual habit, his phone rang. “Morgana I thought we had our share of brother-sister bonding moment last night” he answered turning around the corner. He wished he could work on something simpler as a grocery list while he talked to his sister but since Gwen had given him more food he could eat for the rest of the year, his Saturday was looking sufficiently uneventful.

“I’m laughing so hard dear brother, it sounds as if it wasn’t funny” she said, “But believe it or not, I’m not calling you because I want to hear your unfunny jokes”

“You wound me sister. And here I thought we’ll have a good laugh” he said almost glancing the very recognizable corner of his building.

“I’m having a small tea meeting later tonight and I’ve told that if I don’t invite you... nothing terrible will happen to me but I should nonetheless” she said unimpressed.

“Guinevere sure knows how to threaten people”

“You don’t have to go, I just had to tell you and you had to be informed. Agreed?”

“Agreed” he said before she hanged up. Morgana’s tea meetings were sort of those legendary gatherings only a very short and closed circle of people -Morgana, her wicked business’s associate Morgause and her small entourage of fast talking women Sophia, Vivian and Nimueh- knew about. They usually got together and discussed about nothing but every now and then, they actually came with good marketing ideas for the company. They also usually made the silly gesture of inviting Arthur for a cuppa but he declined as often as they expected him to do it. Sometimes Guinevere got an invitation as well and those were the moments Arthur got invited too more vigorously because even when Gwen was as sweet as a peach, she couldn’t stand being alone in a room with those women and used Arthur as her personal social shield.

Because Arthur had the best skills at socializing as Gwen so foolishly thought.

But he couldn’t worry about Gwen’s well being at this time of the year; it was already life threatening to go to those meetings around the year, his chances of getting poisoned eating a crumpet or getting devoured by somebody else’s claws increased with the Christmas season so near upon him. Self-preservation and nothing more, he reminded himself.

Sometimes Arthur thinks life is really _really_ unfair to him and sometimes he thinks life it’s just plain bad and he has to deal with it. Now, it’s neither of those times because he’s quite sure there is no adjective left in the English vocabulary to express how he’s feeling about what he’s contemplating.

Cheekbones chatting up with his Santa as if they were long lost friends.

Arthur should have not left the car before seeing this --he should have stayed and ran over the two of them with it.

**~~~~~~**

He’s no fool, Arthur is very aware you can’t (or at least you shouldn’t) own people as property on the 21st century but, and there was no sensible or adult way of saying this... That was his Santa! Not Cheekbone’s. _His!_

He’ll have to find his own Father Christmas to talk to because this was very much taken. And he wasn’t in the mood for sharing and even if he was, he will never be in the mood for sharing with _him._ The same red scarf, those slim long fingers and those ears, there was no way in hell -no chance whatsoever- he’ll ever grew accustom to that sight. The sooner he’ll vanish the sooner Arthur’s life would resume its path of sameness and routine.

So Arthur did the mature thing and crossed the street to the coffee shop right in front of his office entrance with the safe determination he’ll wait every conceivable hour for Cheekbones to leave, donate a small quantity of his wage and leave to do nothing at his flat. He bought a black coffee, ignoring the barista’s suggestions of adding ginger or red and green sprinkles to it with the tact of a live rock, and sat by the window glaring filled with hate at the other side of the street. He only had a glimpse of the backside of Cheekbones’ body but that was enough for Arthur to know there was absolutely nothing interesting about the men’s figure.

Perhaps if you liked gangly limbs, longs legs and almost (just almost) perfect arses than yes, he might be of some interest but since neither of those features were of Arthur’s interest because they were too attached to a very annoying person then Arthur only stared back at the shape five or six times every minute. He drank his coffee and waited and waited... and waited some more, always looking and not looking both at Cheekbones and his watch. At least he was doing something on his Saturday morning even when that something was stalking (or contemplating from afar as he preferred to phrase it) a stranger.

When fifteen minutes had passed, even though for Arthur they felt like his entire morning, Arthur was actually surprised someone could sustain a conversation for so long with someone dressed up as Santa Claus. And to his despair, the talk looked highly entertaining if the times both men had laughed were any proof. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so many times in a row, nevertheless he didn’t think he had ever laughed talking to a stranger so easily like they both seemed to do. Unless they were no strangers and Santa were some of Cheekbones’s friends. That stranger with hideous sense of style (really? That scarf and that violet hat? Arthur thought) and too wild hair seemed like the perfect kind of person to be friends with sixty year old men that liked to dress in red and white and stand on the streets asking for money. Oh god, Arthur thought horrified for a second, what if Santa was Cheekbones sugar daddy or something equally scarring? That was a thought he couldn’t hold while trying to drink down his coffee.

People were calmly passing by the two of them, giving their donations as normal people did while the other talked around them. Santa occasionally waved his bell for the children passing through and on other times, someone would make a funny comment to Cheekbones and he will laugh as if he had heard the most hilarious thing in the universe. It made Arthur brood even more bitterly at the sight of so much happiness in contrast to his own... obvious lack of.

He wouldn’t say he was unhappy or miserable –he wouldn’t go that far- but it was just the holiday spirit catching up with him. This always happened when Christmas came nearer and he was used to it by now, or so he thought but sometimes just like this second when he saw families smiling around the park holding hands or children telling their wishes to Santa on the mall or even odd looking strangers talking to Santa and laughing with all the easiness in the world... On those occasions Arthur’s heart made his determination to keep away from holiday joy waver but it never lasted for too long.

**~~~~~~**

So the thing in the end was: he was a grown man who was not going to be intimidated by meeting a strange man for the third time in three days. Regardless of odd incidents related to chocolate boxes and impromptu singing at someone’s threshold, the children were in need and Arthur couldn’t deprive them of his money because he didn’t want to face him.

As he crossed the street, the conversation became clearer to his non-privy ears. Although of course he didn’t understand the details and he had no context whatsoever Arthur was fairly certain they were discussing... Cooking recipes? Something that involved lots of sugar, white wine and salmon. Perhaps he was improvising on the later one but Arthur had convinced himself he had no real interest behind their discussion. He was just going to drop off the couple of notes and leave; if there was a time to try again his military tactic of following two simple actions -drop and leave- it was now.

“Here” he said, trying to sneak his hand in between the two bodies holding the money and going unnoticed by them at the same time. He wasn’t sure if that was even achievable but in Arthur’s head it was at least worth the shot.

Of course he failed miserable at it but at least, he was trying to do something.

Santa started to move around his bell near his ear, smiling with obvious staged joy at him. “Thank you sir” Santa said and Arthur nodded awkwardly trying to vanish from sight as he felt Cheekbones’ eager eyes falling over him. “And have a happy Christmas!”

The greeting was given with such a display of emotion Arthur felt off at being part of the scene. Nobody who truly knew him would have even bothered to wish him a happy Christmas so fondly and publicly.

Cheekbones was chuckling beside him and he couldn’t help but to look at him. This man, he thought, this person was unbelievable. How dare he to stand there and laugh at him and look at him and acknowledge his presence? There was just something in Cheekbones’ self that annoyed him and he couldn’t quite put into words.

Cheekbones stared back at him, probably challenging him to do something else. How foolish he was if he actually thought Arthur was going to do something besides leave and never return to this place. Because that was exactly what he had in mind and he had no quarrel with putting his idea into action as soon as possible.

“Well thank you for coming my boy and thank you for your advice” Santa told Cheekbones as Arthur stood there like a unicycle’s third wheel.

“No problem” Cheekbones said, shaking Santa’s hand and turning to meet his face again. “Good day” he said to Arthur boldly taken him completely by surprise.

He wasn’t expecting this, a casual greeting as if they were two simple people who knew each other --it wasn’t as if Arthur was actually expecting something to happen between the two but he felt that perhaps a small acknowledgement of their chocolate incident or whatever had happened last night, with the wink and everything, was a more suitable initial phrase than “Good Day”.

And what did that even mean? Cheekbones’s eyes were no malicious as they had looked the night before, with their mischievous gleam as their parted ways with Arthur’s. They were kind and still very blue and he didn’t know what to make of them.

“Good morning” he said fully committed at the thought of leaving on that second but the stranger was smiling at him fondly and Santa was looking at the two of them with an amused smile hidden behind his fake white beard. He didn’t want to just leave and be judge by Santa after; he wasn’t a child, he knew he wasn’t going to end on the naughty list but there was still some subconscious little voice inside his head that told him annoying Santa wasn’t a good thing. So Arthur stayed not sure what to do next. “It’s very kind what you do. My uncle told me you stop by every day to give something”. It wasn’t as if he incapable of receiving a compliment but his body sometimes decided it was best to keep a mute stand when faced with one. That’s why flirting was a painful thing for him to contemplate and perform.

“It’s what anybody should do” he explained because saying he feared a supernatural curse of the Christmas’s gods and he didn’t actually care for the children might come off as rude and insensitive.

“Have we met before?” Cheekbones asked with genuine concern and curiosity drawn in his eyes. He only felt a small sting of disappointment before realizing how stupid that would be --it had been just a small part of him that had wished perhaps he had been a little bit more memorable for Cheekbones’ daily life but he guessed he had been mistaken. Perhaps the other had a strange tendency to steal chocolates and wink at everybody and he couldn’t keep track on how many people he made fluster with his eyes (something that never happened to him thank you very much).

“I don’t think so” he said as neutral as possible, “I don’t think we frequent the same places”

Cheekbones seemed to be taken aback by his words, which in all fairness might have come out more pratish that he had intended. But very soon any sign of anger seemed to vanish from his angular face. “Guess you are right” he said. “I must have mistaken you for somebody else... Perhaps someone with manners”

Arthur considered for a strong couple of seconds the real possibility the man was teasing him -given that teasing seemed to be a part of his true nature- before realizing he had been insulted. And who did he think he was to talk about manners? If anyone here had infringed the laws of good conduct was him (and perhaps Santa but he had no authority to know what Santa impersonators did in their free time).

“I should go now” Arthur said.

Cheekbones tilted his head to the side, examining his expression with curiosity hiding half of his chin inside his awful scarf. Then he laughed as if Arthur’s face was the funniest thing he had seen in his life and patted him in the arm with all the easiness of two intimate friends. “God, you need some Christmas joy in you, mate” he said still laughing.

Arthur felt his own cheekbones flush with the heat of confusion; nobody, not even his own friends, talked or touched him like they were long time friends. It just wasn’t something that actually happened in his daily life, how was his supposed to deal with it graciously? Answer: he didn’t.

Instead, he spluttered a half decent answer and a goodbye to Santa before stepping aside and walking back to his car ignoring the situation. As long as he gave his back to it then it wasn’t his issue.

“Don’t leave! I’m sorry!” Cheekbones shouted at him from behind as Santa laughed at him too. If there was any shadow of a doubt left in his body after this regarding where he stood regarding Cheekbones’ presence in his life, that doubt was thoroughly discarded itself as he was completely certain he loathed him. Nobody made Santa laughed at him, nobody.

 


	4. Joy to the World

Arthur’s flat building was a very modern and expensive creation, made by someone with no concept of real aesthetics or modern architecture but it was set on the fanciest side of the city so it was sort of mandatory for him to live there so his father would not judge him for his poor life decisions. It was a strange and silly logic, he couldn’t deny that, but it made his father happy and as long as it he didn’t look at the awfully painted façade then it wasn’t _that_ bad.

He had a good life there, his flat was empty of Christmas decorations, he didn’t know any of his neighbours and they didn’t know him as well and it was close to work after a thirty minute drive. Paying the rent felt almost like a bad joke every month when he stared back at the numbers in the check but he had been fortunate enough to receive an upbringing where money wasn’t an issue.

Now it was Sunday night and Arthur was comfortably tucked inside his bed preparing himself to fall asleep and enjoy a dreamless night. That combined with the fact that when he had made breakfast that morning he had gotten a double yolk egg convinced him this had been a perfect day. Arthur knew for a long time now that the key to happiness and achieving perfection was... low expectations.

Lance had called him early in the afternoon, asking to join him back at his home for a couple of hot cocoa cups because Gwen was convinced he needed some heat down his throat at every second of every day or else, he might die of sadness. Obviously he declined having already been forced to attend one social gathering in the week and went back to read a very interesting book about the economy of West China in the 19th century.

There was nothing else he would rather be doing at that moment. He couldn’t tempt fate by turning on the telly and try to watch a film on this time of the year --the memories of the time he had tried to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” and a dead pigeon had stormed inside his living room through the window were still too fresh.

After he had finished his book, concluding reading economical facts on a lazy Sunday morning was the perfect solution for a boring day Arthur took a long shower and after eating some heated scraps from Gwen’s dinner, went to the bed he was now in.

A perfect finale for a perfect day.

**~~~~~~**

There was a loud noise coming from beneath Arthur’s bed and to his very much despair the clock only announced it was close to midnight. He had fallen asleep quickly after he had turned all the lights off and prepared his clothes for the next day, his ironed shirt and tie that matches with his socks was on full display in front of his bed hanging over his closed door, and was enjoying what he knew was a blank space of nothing when he woke surprised by the strange commotion.

He waited for a couple of seconds for something to prove him he had not invented it but when a modest alarm started to roam outside his door and a mechanical voice announced through the corridor that every habitant was meant to leave his flat at once because the building was experiencing some mild problem with the heating system, Arthur appreciated the fact that he was not insane and he was not inventing strange sounds to try to make his life more exciting.

Why would he want to do something like that? Everyone knew with excitement came trouble and he was very well without that in his life. He only managed to put on some proper shoes and was searching for his coat when a knock on his door announced him that the mild problem had escalated into something slightly more worrisome so he had to leave his flat _at once_. The command was uttered with such politeness Arthur didn’t considerer the problem could be too serious if the people in charge still had time to be educated and posh.

Since he wasn’t on any sort of death wish, he grabbed his thick black coat to cover his thin pyjama layers, his cell phone, car keys and left before his flat got any chance to explode while he was still inside. He didn’t feel like exploding on the middle of the night today.

They were all waiting on the ground floor, every neighbour forced to face the inevitability of their common presence while the chance of losing their homes was still a real possibility. Or so Arthur felt the situation was picturing itself. He was standing as far as he could from the crowd, trying to find the perfect balance between distance and social empathy while everybody else talked happily about the “odd incident” as if they were all close friends. Arthur knew you could lose a sense of what a community can be when you shut yourself out of it with the same passion he displayed but being left out felt oddly... hurtful. Then again, it was safer to blame the pain his loneliness had created with the sting of cold wind grazing his face and bare hands. Fortunately he had always had the habit of sleeping with his socks on so he might not lose his toes tonight; that was a thought to cheer him up for the moment.

Luckily for him there weren’t too many families living in his building -he didn’t know what would he do if he had to face roaming and rampaging children at this ungodly hours- and the few children he had seen were safely tucked and sleeping on their mothers and fathers’ arms. Arthur saw a small kid, no older than a five year old, sleeping lazily over his mother’s shoulders with pink cheeks from the cold breeze as his mother sang a soft lullaby to his ear sweetly. He only wished it would not start to snow suddenly to complete the picture with a delicate tone of white snowflakes over their heads --it might look very nice and a very Hallmark moment but it wouldn’t be too pretty once they all froze to death outside their homes.

“Hello dear” a soft voice spoke to him. At first he couldn’t see the voice’s source but once he lowered his sight, Arthur found a pair of kind eyes and greyish blonde hair as the front façade of a very small and very old woman. She looked at him warmly as she gave him a pair of mittens.

Arthur wanted to refuse the gesture because it only meant he’ll have to return them in the future and that already meant too many new actions regarding his social protocol around his home. But the freezing air best him and he surrendered to the kindness of strangers (even when technically speaking they weren’t too much of strangers to the other now). As he put them on, the sound of a motor broke the calm and peace of the scenery.

Arthur turned around and saw an ancient bike approaching the small group the tenants made; it looked as if it was closer to break into every imaginable piece before moving any forward but as Arthur waited the second the bike would explode out of his deplorable condition the bike seemed to keep on moving stubbornly.

A figure of long legs and basically, long everything, got off and started to walk towards them while carrying a parcel beneath his arms. With his black helmet, awful blue and green scarf and baggy jacket, the man looked like the weirdest messenger every employed by a company with no eyes and no sense of aesthetic. The messenger approached the group, greeting some of them tilting his head politely before he got next to the old lady Arthur was now bound to talk again in his near future. He took out his helmet revealing a pair of monumental cheekbones...

Oh for God’s sake! Arthur thought angrily. He felt like fuming out of his nostrils with rage and amazement. He had never seen Cheekbones before in his life and now he felt he might as well live on the other side of his bathroom mirror because he kept on coming back and back again into Arthur’s life.

Well perhaps, technically he wasn’t here for Arthur’s life strictly speaking but the old woman was his neighbour so in a sense she was a part of his everyday life in a very peripheral sense of the word. Cheekbones was giving the woman the parcel he had brought and she almost glowed with joy at receiving it. They started to chat along very animatedly in the same manner the other had talked to Santa the day before --perhaps, Arthur considered, the man had a strange fetish regarding old people and making them smile with his pestering words. That made more sense than the other possibility, a chance Arthur was nowhere near to admit, nor to himself and even less to the rest of the world, and that was that Cheekbones was in fact a _pleasant_ person to talk to.

There was no base for such statement. If Arthur had to make a case about it even when he wasn’t a lawyer and his whole knowledge of the justice system came from cheesy TV shows, based on his encounters only he was certain the other man was nothing but annoying and strange. Particularly strange as in the sense you can’t stop thinking about the strangeness of it all.

Before he could keep on rambling about all the small bits of information he had gathered in a very short time about Cheekbones, the old lady and her private messenger turned around to meet his eyes and the woman waved eagerly to him to walk forward, inviting him to her small group of friends. He had already taken her present before, there was nothing that might compel him to listen to her and walk. Arthur thought that perhaps it would be an easier and more enjoyable way to spend the last remaining moment of his Sunday by walking straight back into the building and lighting up a cigar. He was sure that exploding into a million pieces would be a far more agreeable experience that meeting Cheekbones in the middle of the night wearing his old pyjamas.

Not that he was concerned of making a bad impression to the other, that is.

“Dear boy I want you to meet my guardian angel” the woman said after he caved in and walked to their place. Arthur thought he had seen a flush of pink through the other’s white cheeks but he discarded the thought quickly because it was of no use for him.

“Please Alice” Cheekbones said, obviously faking a false sense of modesty. He seemed like the type of person that might cripple a young puppy just to get the satisfaction of helping it later.

“Don’t mind me if I’m embarrassing you dear. I just thought you two should meet eventually” the woman, Alice now, said smiling at the two. Arthur didn’t know where the woman was getting all of her kindness towards him given the fact that he had never spoke to her before and right before she had given him the mittens, he wasn’t even aware of her existence.

“Surely you are right” Cheekbones nodded extending his hand towards Arthur politely. Feeling the pressure of disappointing somebody else’s grandmother Arthur shook the hand back still wearing the gloves; it was only when he was holding the other’s hand he noticed the Christmas tree thoroughly knitted across his palm with the blue, yellow and red pompoms standing out in the green background. Cheekbones chuckled when Arthur quickly hid his hand away from sight, feeling his own cheeks flushing with redness.

Apparently there was something chemical between the two of them that biologically prevent them for making a descent first impression on every occasion they’ve met. “Nice to meet you”

“Yes” Arthur answered shortly without looking back at the curious pair of eyes he was now starting to feel both accustomed and enraged by. Alice was staring at the two of them with the same fondness Santa had seen them the day before and Arthur felt he was forgetting something, some important moment in every social interaction but he couldn’t quite know what it was.

“I’m Merlin by the way” Cheekbones said. Right, Arthur realized, strange people that are meeting for the first time usually exchange their names so they will no longer be strangers any more. Oddly enough, Arthur had imagined that since this wasn’t their first encounter they weren’t as strange to the other as they actually appeared to be for the rest. It was that or Arthur was subconsciously adamant of letting himself to be known by the man of blue eyes.

“Arthur!” he said rapidly, “Arthur, Arthur Pendragon... Arthur” he added when he didn’t know what else to say. Cheekbones (or Merlin but the name was too silly to be real) seemed to do his fair worst to dry out a laugh by biting his thick lower lip. Suddenly the man’s red lips seemed to be the only focus on Arthur’s sight by the contrast their set against the man’s white skin. Winter weather appeared to do wonders to the man’s face: the white of his skin helped enhance in every way the rest of his delicate and unique features. His hair seemed darker and his lips seemed... more kissable. I mean, Arthur thought, if you were looking for a textbook definition of what kissable lips looked like they might looked like his and people might say they look very nice indeed. And since he was a human being with an actual human heart (irrelevant on how many times Morgana or Gwaine joked about his lack of emotions) and with human needs then he couldn’t deny it.

Cheekbones had a very nice looking face indeed. But it was a fancy and good looking wrapper covering a terrible and cheap present and god helped him because he was starting to make Christmas presents analogies now. It had to be the freezing air reaching its way to his brain, crystallising any last vestige of common sense inside of him.

“Arthur, isn’t it?” Merlin asked bemused. “Love the gloves by the way, very season appropriate” he said.

“Oh I had to give him something” Alice intervened, “He was standing there on his own shaking his lovely hands completely frozen”.

Merlin smiled as if this was the best joke anyone has ever told him and Arthur actually sighed glad when the concierge appear through the building’s entrance announcing everything was back to normal. But his joy was too short to actually mean something as Arthur walked back towards his home and Merlin tagged along behind him chatting happily to Alice.

**~~~~~~**

“Alice tells me you are quite a mystery”. Arthur was about to open back his flat’s door when Merlin materialized itself next to him with a cheeky grin.

“Yes” Arthur responded while opening it and feeling the heat back into normal reaching his cold cheeks (he wanted to think they were actually cold when in fact they were warm and probably one shade of pink because of Merlin’s sudden proximity) and the rest of his body. “I’m a very interesting person but it’s also very late so you should leave now”

Merlin pouted back at him, showing him his best demonstration of Gwen’s puppy eyes and for gracious sake, they were quite adorable. “You break my heart Arthur Arthur Arthur Pendragon” Merlin said while touching his chest as if he was actually offended by Arthur’s words but Arthur was no fool. He wasn’t going to be toyed with the other’s words and lips and eyes and body leaning next to his doorway. “Arthur” he finished smiling.

Arthur glanced back at him, hoping his eyes showed what he had expected was his annoyance but he guessed he wasn’t very successful at it if Merlin still stood there appearing to have no intention to leave his side. He thought for a moment if perhaps he should just get inside and closed the door behind him, leaving the other to freeze to death wearing his silly scarf and baggy clothes but there was something he couldn’t quite pinpoint about the man’s presence and he didn’t find the strength left in his body to actually move away from there. “What are you doing here?” he asked, “You don’t even live here. You live in the suburbs and sing Christmas carols to your neighbours in the night”

Merlin smiled broadly at his words, genuinely happy for the acknowledgement of their previous meeting or so Arthur presumed that was what the smile meant. “I didn’t think you remembered”

“What?” Arthur asked confused. He wanted to say something like “How could he not remember?” but he sensed that choice of words might send the wrong idea.

“I didn’t think you would remember me from that. You certainly didn’t look to do it yesterday”

“Of course I do!” Arthur said angrily. “You stole me the last of the chocolates boxes and you knew it!”

There was no possible way for those words to sound anything but childish but he didn’t care about it --it was the truth and now, it was the time for Cheekbones to face the consequences of his crimes.

Merlin covered his mouth with both of his hands, as if he was actually embarrassed by his confession. “I just could not help myself, I’m sorry” he said, clearly not sorry at all. The lack of guilt on his blue eyes threw Arthur off; he had expected at least a mild apology now they both knew what had happened but this was not it. This was just recognition for the crime but not atonement for the deed.

“That doesn’t answer my question” Arthur added. “What are you doing here?”

“You heard Alice, I’m her guardian angel. I bring her all the joy in the world to her door every night”

Well, that sounded disturbingly dirty for Arthur’s apparently dirty mind. The thought of Merlin and a sixty year old Alice together sent shivers and a stream of cold sweat down his spine. Merlin seemed to notice his discomfort because he laughed again, patting him in the shoulder like the day before. “I work at a pharmacy and I bring her the medication she needs. That’s all the services I can offer...” Merlin said raising his hands to the air in mockery surrender. “At least to her” he added and winked at him.

Arthur unceremoniously dropped his keys to the floor, feeling his face about to explode from the heat. “Right” he said because he was lost of words and he was usually lost of anything to say when he was very lost, he was mute now and with a bang. “Goodbye then” he said before getting inside his flat without exchanging a second glimpse at Merlin’s inviting posture beside the door frame. 

“Bye bye Arthur Arthur Pendragon” he heard Merlin saying as he placed his head on top of the door trying to think of old ladies and old things in general to cool down the heat on his skin. He hardly succeeded at it but when it did, he went back to his bed not thinking about anything except lips and eyes and winks.

 


	5. Ding Dong Merrily on High

Arthur likes owning fancy things. He also likes buying them off-season so they don’t feel like Christmas’s presents he buys for himself. It also means they are usually at half of their original price but he likes to think that’s the icing of the cake. He feels that since he can’t really enjoy Christmas like a proper person because he might die or something worse might happen (like the time his father had hired a Santa impersonator and the man had ran over his dog with his fake slide) he deserved a small kind gesture once in a while. So he can be fortunate enough to have the same things everybody else had he just got to spend less money for it. It was a win-win situation where everyone was him and he always won.

But neither of these things actually meant Arthur was some sort of technology expert. He could hardly use his computer -and that is only because he stayed to the necessary items like internet and Word- and he only used his phone to call people (theoretically speaking since he was always the receiver more than the caller) and check his e-mails when he wasn’t in front of his computer which was hardly never. He owned a stereo, or at least he thought it was a stereo because he didn’t use it but it looked nice next to the TV set he had bought to fill up a wall on his flat. His DVD player was always filled with a thin layer of dust because he removed one time a small wire and never knew where it went back again so he now liked the _idea_ of being able to watch a film whenever he felt like it, it was just that he never did it.

In the office he used his computer to look over the company’s finances and mayor graphs but he still favoured the written and printed reports and made his co-workers always comply with his request because he was the boss after all and that meant he was in charge.

So he could say he was not too dependent of his computer or technology in general... but that didn’t mean he could just live or work without them. That was why he had to call Percy to look over his computer when the bloody thing refused to even turn on that Monday morning.

Arthur knew that if he had his morning fix of caffeine he would be laughing at the sight of Percy, a half human half giant man, squatting beneath his desk looking for the bug on his connection. He felt that if something unexpected might happened at any second and Percy got up quickly, the man would take the desk over his shoulders and feel no difference at all. He wished he could laugh at the silliness of his thought but it was early in the morning, he was already behind on his duties for the day and his coffee tasted like dirt (and not the good kind) because someone didn’t know how to use the coffee maker and had decided to “wing it” as Elena had said before.

It was also funny because Percy was a human giant hybrid wearing a fluffy violet sweater with a smiling penguin on his broad chest and the whole sight was almost surreal.

“I’m still not sure what seems to be wrong here” he could hear Percy saying under his chair as he stood across his office, arms crossed over his chest as if his dominant position could frighten the device and forced it into function. “But this might take a while so there’s no need for you to stand there”. Percy showed his head from one corner of the desk, his short hair and big head giving him the universal message of “fuck off to let me do my job but I will never say fuck off because you are my boss and I have the heart of a gentle giant”.

He wasn’t sure if the message would be _that_ universal for the whole universe but it worked in this office because Arthur was quickly out of the door, not sure what to do until the problem got fixed.

He felt the temptation of going to the top floors to disturb Morgana while she tried to be productive but he luckily stopped himself when he got to the lift and blamed his moment of weakness for brother-sister’s bonding over the lack of caffeine on his blood. Arthur left a note with his assistant George letting Percy knew he should call him as soon as everything was dealt with and Arthur walked to nearest coffee shop to kill off his free time.

He didn’t feel the presence walking behind him when he left the building.

**~~~~~~**

It life had given him lemons to turn into lemonade, Arthur could have just crossed the street and walked to the coffee house right in front of his office building but since life only gave him the occasional rotten grapefruit there wasn’t much to be done when the place was closed because the owner had left to the Bahamas with his twenty year old girlfriend.

Lucky bastard, he murmured when he started the walk to the other closest place at a fifteen minute walk away from where he stood bitterly.

His phone, the one he had bought on April once everybody else had camped outside the big stores trying to buy the first ones on November, started ringing after he was only five minutes away. Arthur groaned at the notion of returning without coffee back to his office so soon and cursed Percy for his professionalism. He only got a chance to glance at the incoming call -Gwaine’s- before he could feel a pricking pain behind his neck. He turned around confused but he could only tell a slim shorter figure behind him dressed in some red and green attire before everything turned to pitch black.

When Arthur woke up he was on the dirty floor of an alley surrounded by trash bags and a curious rat smelling his feet with its whiskers. He tried to remember what had happened before he could tell a warm stream running over his face; his hand instinctively went for it and when he looked back at his fingers, they were covered in fresh blood.

His nose was bleeding, his head felt to be throbbing and there was no way to tell for how long he had been there because his watch (the one he had bought on February on a discount) was gone. He tilted his head back trying to stop the bleeding but even his handkerchief was missing. Obviously his phone and wallet were gone too.

Arthur felt like getting up and getting the hell out of the dark alley but his head was still delicate from the blow and he realized he had nothing else to lose after all; if a second thief found him there, what could he take away from him? His tie? His virtue? He figures he had nothing left to lose if he waited to pass the pain sitting on the floor trying not to freeze his bum in the meantime.

“Hey!” a voice from the beginning of the alley called. “Are you alive?”

Arthur snorted at the stupidity of the question --what sort of answer could a person expect from that type of question? “No, I’m a flesh eating zombie, fear me” he felt tempted to answer.

He didn’t have the time, the figure at the other end walked near him and Arthur could tell a pair of long legs approaching him at a shy pace. He couldn’t blame the man for being truly scared of him, for all he can know Arthur could actually be a flesh eating zombie waiting patiently for a fool to walk by him so he could feast on his flesh. He didn’t know zombie’s tactics but it did sound like something a zombie might do to feed itself. “Oh my god you are bleeding” the other said horrified and it was only now that the voice was closer that Arthur could start to get the hunch he might know the source. When he looked up from his hand holding his nose, Cheekbones was looking back at him concerned.

He didn’t know what sort of sight he must be given for him but he could bet his life it wasn’t a pretty one.

“What happened?” Cheekbones asked him, crouching next to him and using a tissue to clean his face the best he could. Arthur allowed himself a couple of seconds of silence for the other to touch his face tenderly before reacting and explaining all the vague details he could recall.

“You got mugged”

Arthur snorted, clearly a bad idea because his nose was kind enough to let him know it was still a little bit painful to do it. “Obviously”

“C’mon” Cheekbones said offering him his hand and helping him get up back on his feet. Luckily the red and green shadow didn’t feel tempted to take his shoes too because he honestly didn’t know what he would do if he had to walk back to his office and getting inside the building without shoes and looking like a homeless and insane person. “We need to go to a hospital”

Arthur took a step back, still dizzy and disoriented and Cheekbones grabbed him by the hand to keep him from falling down. “No” he said, “I need to get back to work”

“Don’t be stupid” Cheekbones told him, scolding him and taking him by the arm to start walking. “You suffered a serious blow to the head; you need to be check by a doctor. What if the impact left you ever prattier than before?” he asked.

“You can’t talk to me like that. I’m a victim”

“Who refuses to receive medical care... a stupid victim I should say”

“Look” Arthur spoke calmer now and stopping Cheekbones from walking putting his hand in front of his chest. The fast heartbeat he felt beneath the thick layers of winter clothes was oddly relaxing and his nose seemed to hurt less when he only concentrated on it... but he couldn’t do it for too long because it might be too weird, even for him. “My office is really close and I have a car there”

“And how will you drive it without your car keys?”

“My sister works there, she can take me”

Cheekbones looked at him, pondering on all the implications behind his decision (probably, Arthur was guessing there because he was too busy staring up and close at the man’s lips --the same lips that didn’t let him sleep very peacefully the night before) and finally sighed, caving into Arthur’s idea. “Where’s your office?” he asked holding him by the chest, making sure Arthur didn’t fall to the floor again and break like a cheap doll.

“Over there” Arthur pointed and Cheekbones most likely analysed the idea of following directions from a man who just suffered a mild concussion but it seemed he had no problem with it after all because soon they were walking towards Arthur’s building.

**~~~~~~**

“Do you think you can describe the thief?”

They were walking slowly back into the office and most of the people was staring back at the two of them, the Bloody face and the Cheekbones like a bad cop-movie from the eighties, but Arthur didn’t really care about the curious and annoying faces. He felt quite warm walking along side the other man and he smelled like pine tree; he assumed if he ever had gotten a proper natural tree for his home his walls might smell like him. It was... nice.

“I told you. He was slim, wore some red and green thing and wasn’t very tall... But I guess he was very strong to knock me out” he quickly added, trying not to look like a wimp to Cheekbones.

“What do you mean red and green? Like a sweater?”

“No, not a sweater. It was everything, from top to bottom red and green” Arthur tried to explain what he thought he saw but it was getting difficult when he wasn’t even sure if what he had seen was real or not.

“Like a jumpsuit then?”

“I don’t know fashion terms” Arthur complained.

Cheekbones laughed and when he did it, his chest moved tenderly up and down next to Arthur’s arm; it was surprising how even the man’s rapid motions could be soothing for Arthur back then.

“Right, so a tiny tiny man in a red and green jumpsuit attacked you from behind and took everything you had” Merlin said with a mixture of disbelief and mockery.

“Exactly” Arthur solemnly nodded, “Like her over there” he then said, pointing out to a figure on the other side of the street.

“Arthur Arthur that’s an elf” Cheekbones explained him like he was a toddler who didn’t understand the concept of how rain worked. It’s actually endearing for a couple of seconds the way Cheekbones said Arthur’s name twice before he could think about what the other had said at all.

Now that he could see it more clearly, he could tell too the figure on the other side was a small girl dressed like an elf... but the way the colours were done on her costume looked remarkably a lot like the two shadows of tones he remembered before everything turned to black. 

“An elf...” Arthur murmured without taking his eyes away from the girl that had a small gathering around a blanket on the floor.

“An elf” Cheekbones seemed to carry his train of thought, “An elf selling a cell phone and a fancy watch”

Oh god, the realization was too devastating for him to accept it. He got mugged... by an elf, on Christmas. Why? He asked himself, where was his flaw for him to be punished this year with something so embarrassing like this? “Let’s go” Cheekbones told him, helping him cross the street to the elf’s side and walking slowly towards her little stand.

At first they remained hidden behind a heavy man that was examining Arthur’s watch but when soon the man left they were exposed. The elf didn’t seem to notice something was off until Cheekbones left Arthur’s side to stand alone and walk towards her stepping menacingly unto her blanket. She looked up and with a quick exchange between Cheekbones there and a bleeding Arthur behind him, she seemed to add up the numbers pretty fast before she took off to the other side and started running like the floor was on fire.

“Hey!” Cheekbones screamed before chasing her down, running as fast as she did down the street. Arthur watched it from afar because he felt that if he moved too fast he might throw up but in the end he managed to conclude two important facts: a) Cheekbones probably had been part of his school’s track team because he wasn’t sure if he had ever met someone who could outrun and tackle an elf as fast as he did and b) Cheekbones stepping over the blanket and looking threatening had looked hot as fuck, even when the person threatened was an elf.

Arthur could see Cheekbones talking to somebody else, probable asking them to call the police so they could take the elf away while he contained her in his arms. It seemed, to Arthur’s great shock that behind the awful clothes and hideous scarf Cheekbones was actually a very (very very) fit man.

He didn’t know that if it had been the realization that the person who had been a nightmare for him for the last five days was very hot indeed or the untreated blow to the head that sent him straight to the floor in the end.

What he did know it was that it didn’t matter. Cheekbones smelled good and had a great body. That was a last thought he could live with before leaving the land of the living.

 


	6. O Come All Ye Faithful

When Arthur woke he had expected to hear the consistent beep of an IV machine next to him and smell the chlorine smell of neatly cleansed hospital floors. Instead he saw the empty and white ceiling of his bedroom and the only scent he could tell was coffee being made on the other side of the door. His head was still a little bit soared but compared to the last time, he had no major complains.

“Good morning” a gracious voice spoke to him from the doorframe.

“Guinevere” he said, getting up slowly from his bed and seating right there, with his back resting against his hard bed frame. “How long have I’ve been sleeping?”

“Not that much” she said, walking towards him with a mug on her hands making Arthur remember how it all had started out of his basic need for caffeine. “We took you to the A&E yesterday and after some checking, the doctor said you were fine but needed to rest”

“We?” he asked taking the mug from her and drinking down the sweet and bitter elixir of life and energy.

Gwen was seated on the right edge of his bed, stretching down the wrinkles on his used sheets. “We will be me, Morgana and some random man” she said.

Going through a detailed list of people Arthur knew but Gwen didn’t (and he went through _all_ of the five names) one stock out from the bunch like a sunflower on a field of musk. “Cheek...” he started to say before realizing the idiocy that was about to leave his mouth. Gwen stared back at him, glaring with her raised eyebrow as if Arthur had suddenly grown a second head. “...bones” he finished once he realized there was no escape to his foolishness.

“He said his name was Merlin actually” she said unimpressed. Suddenly there seemed to be a complete change of heart in her, or at least a complete change of facial expression because Gwen seemed to add two and two and jumped from his bed to his arms with absolute joy on her face.

“Oh my god! Arthur! Why didn’t you tell us you were seeing somebody? Of course, it makes complete sense now”

In between trying to divert from Guinevere’s lethal embrace and the heat on his face that surged at the mention of the hypothetical possibility of him and Cheekbones dating, Arthur stammered a half conceived denial that Gwen of course didn’t buy. “Don’t lie. You even have pet names for the other” she told him once she had liberated his neck from her ridiculously strong arms (seriously, since when had Gwen started to lift weights in her free time), “How does he calls you?” she asked once she was back to her initial position at one side of the bed.

“Prat” he mumbled bitterly. Perhaps Cheekbones did have a different name for him when he talked about him with his friends, or even with Alice, but Arthur couldn’t know --neither could he know whether Cheekbones even referred him when talked to somebody else. The idea of not being that memorable for the other’s daily tales was somehow depressing in a totally irrelevant way for his life. What did it matter to him if he didn’t make an impression on that ridiculous man? Big deal, he thought, he was sure he made a lasting impression to many other people.

Gwen looked at him pitifully for a couple of seconds before brushing his hair out of his sticky forehead. “You should take a bath and then call him” she said as if it was the most natural and sensible thing for him to do next.

He didn’t know if the shock actually came from the fact he was expected to call him or for the fact that he didn’t have the other’s phone number and that was the disappointing part. Either way he went to the bathroom and took a shower to cleanse his body from the two days dirt and the thoughts of Cheekbones rushing by his side as he was being moved to the hospital on a fast ambulance (perhaps he was overreacting on the last one but Arthur was no writer and he thought drama was very good for the uneventful plot that his life was).

**~~~~~~**

“Stop glaring me like that Guinevere. I’m not going to break apart”.

“It’s not your physical integrity that concerns me Arthur” she said as they both ate sitting quietly one next to the other. Gwen had been kind enough to explain Arthur the plan for the day, a plan that had been conceived without so much a single say from Arthur’s side: she was going to stay by his side till right after lunch when she would have to leave for work and the worst conceivable nurse ever imagined with the body and personality of Gwaine would assist him throughout the rest of his day.

It made Arthur feel like a crystal figurine and he was absolutely not overly eager to spend his afternoon alongside a sober version of Gwaine.

Arthur sighed at the obvious notion that Gwen’s concern was about to be spoken. “Then what is it?”

“I was thinking, this Merlin... Cheekbones” she slowly added as if she was trying to make Arthur understand who she was talking about --it was going to be a difficult task to convince the rest of the world that the blow to the head had not diminished his intellectual capacity and his brain was still fully functional. “He’s the closest you have gotten to an actual real date with an actual real human being and as you so kindly told me, there’s nothing going on between you two”

Arthur remembered that last part, in between his shower and lunch when he had perhaps, explained too vigorously to Gwen he wasn’t in any way interested on Cheekbones -or Merlin as Gwen insisted on calling him, but seriously Merlin was just a name too ridiculous for him to use- and maybe he had been a bit too rude with her but he needed to put it out there: there was nothing and will never be anything between him and the other.

“I don’t see where your concern might be coming from just because I’m not dating one guy”

“Yes but that’s the thing. You’re not dating anyone period. You live inside your office or instead, you spend your days locked inside your flat. I basically had to drag you outside for a nice dinner with your friends. It shouldn’t be that way”. Gwen’s concerned and longing eyes made Arthur feel uncomfortable in his own skin. He wanted to accuse her of not being ready to handle this sort of discussions because his health was in a delicate state yet but he knew he couldn’t go through his life playing the “ill card”. Eventually he was bound to face this like a man, or at least, like an adult. But right now, the prospect of spending more than thirty minutes with Gwaine made everything else sound more annoying and infuriating than usual.

“I appreciate your concern Guinevere but I’m fine. I like my life the way it is, I’m happy with it” he said. For a moment he saw a small glimpse of something else, something foreign that didn’t belong to him but it made him feel warm and glad inside: he saw a scene taken straight from a film, he saw himself arriving home after work with tired feet and a tussled suit to a man that waited him with a hot cup of coffee and a wide smile on his face --he saw himself arriving into said man’s opened arms and resting his face inside the small cavity that the other’s neck made. Arthur contemplated the small moment where he could actually know, with complete certainty, that he was happy inside that bubble of fiction and because the pain of not actually having it hurt him too much, he exploded the bubble himself with the punching spike of reality. “I’m happy with it” he repeated to anybody willing to hear his words.

That was one of the reasons why he hated the holidays -whenever Arthur felt like admitting he actually didn’t like Christmas, even when he could ignore all the mishaps and accidents-, it was that perfect time of the year made especially for self-loathing and introspection. And neither of those activities made Arthur felt better about him.

So he usually ran away from them like the plague.

**~~~~~~**

Gwaine had arrived in the same manner Arthur had anticipated: loudly and annoyingly. To Arthur’s great dismay, the man had come to his flat carrying a small bright pink plastic Christmas tree under his arm and had greeted Arthur with a big smooch on his cheek, a gesture he knew very well Arthur disliked.

Gwen had left hiding her laughter inside her violet scarf and once Arthur and Gwaine were left completely alone, they both fell back into the couch ungraciously and remained silent for a couple of minutes. He could see the small tree from the corner of his eyes as it stood on top of his dinner table, like a challenging remainder of how awful things were on Christmas time. He had come to the decision that if Gwaine even dared to leave the hideous thing on his flat after leaving then he will have no problem with tossing the thing to the curve (he even saw himself burning it to ashes but he thought his neighbours might get too concerned at the sight of a pyre made from a pink Christmas tree)

“So...” Gwaine said awkwardly seating beside him. “You. Got. Attacked. By an elf” he said. Arthur turned back to meet his eyes as his friend made no apparent polite effort to hide his true perception on Arthur’s incident. At least Gwen had got the courtesy to fake genuine shock against the bizarre turn of events but Gwaine? Gwaine had no problem letting the world know he had lost about fifty-five percent of his respect for Arthur after this.

“Shut up” Arthur told him, getting up and walking back to his bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he listened to the other asked while he searched for a book, or basically anything that could keep his mind off his terrible reality. “Gwen said I couldn’t keep you out of my sight”

“Shut up” Arthur bitterly responded. He walked back to the living room and sat on the sofa once he had found his old copy of Journey to the Centre of the Earth. Gwaine looked at him both his upset expression and his choice of entertaining reading and Arthur didn’t need to look back to know he was being judged once more over his lack of holiday spirit. What was he supposed to read then? Dickens? Because that always cheered everyone up --yes, Arthur thought, certainly the poverty and a bleak London would be the perfect setting for a soothing December afternoon doing nothing.

It seemed Gwaine was about to say something, possibly recommend a boring and cheesy Christmas film instead of his book, when the doorbell rang and he quickly got up to answer. Arthur wanted to complain because it was still _his_ house and not Gwaine’s but the man’s long legs and natural ability to upset him best him at the race for the door. Arthur looked from afar as Gwaine opened the door and Cheekbones flushed with surprise at the sight of not Arthur opening it (or so he thought, Gwaine’s broad back had hidden Cheekbones’s face almost immediately after the door had been opened). Arthur wanted to ask what was he doing there but he seemed to be lost at words and Gwaine very much not so.

“Hello there” Gwaine cheekily greeted Cheekbones, while leaning to the side on the door frame.

“Hi” Cheekbones answered still visibly flustered by the strange incident. Arthur had moved to his friend’s right angle to have a better look of the exchange and also, to make his own presence visible for the new arrival. It felt strangely like a mating ritual where everyone involved was very eager to outshine the other (also, there wasn’t going to be any mating at the end of it but Arthur did his spectacularly worst at hiding the disappointment the thought caused him). “Is Arthur here?” Cheekbones asked before his eyes set on Arthur’s eager face behind Gwaine’s shoulder. Arthur felt he probably looked like a small child trying to sneak a glimpse of something forbidden from a high window but the moment their eyes locked to each other, Arthur couldn’t care less if he looked like a pervert looking through a window.

He instinctively smiled, as if he was reassuring the other he was in fact still alive and that his presence was very much welcomed. But soon Gwaine’s own presence was reasserted into the picture as he greeted Cheekbones, shaking his hand and making him get inside.

“Gwaine” Arthur glared sombrely after seeing the easiness with which Gwaine was handling himself around Cheekbones. “Aren’t you forgetting this is still my house and I’m the one who decides who gets in or not”

Cheekbones looked straight at him, ignoring Gwaine’s comfortable arm around his shoulders as the other had invited him closer to the living room. His eyes didn’t look particularly upset but whatever glean Arthur had shared with him seconds before was now gone. The man pouted his lips like he was thinking about some old joke and crossed his arms, standing there and not moving alongside Gwaine’s pace. “Thank goodness I only saved your life. I’ll be dying to know how you treat people who actually are important”

“Please” Arthur snorted, “Don’t get so full of yourself. I could have survived just fine without you”

“Right, because you were so in control”

“I was just fine” Arthur stubbornly added. Merlin uncrossed and crossed back his arms and stood with his legs opened right in front of him, obviously challenging Arthur to prove a point. You needed me, he was saying with his raised brow, you needed me there and you need me now.

Well, Arthur wasn’t going to fall for that.

“You just walked me for three minutes. Big. Deal”

Cheekbones looked to the right and then to his left, trying to find a camera possibly to look at because his face showed all the right expressions of someone wanting to say “Can you believe this guy?” pointing back at Arthur with disbelief.

“Okay” he said, starting to walk back to the door, “Glad to see you are still the same hideous prat. I’m leaving now; don’t despair if I offend your home with my presence”

He made all the way back to the door while Gwaine throw daggers at him with his eyes --Arthur could see his friend’s expression, something close to “Do something” and “Don’t be an arse and apologize” but he wasn’t keen on proving himself wrong to the others and specially not to strangers that meant nothing to him. “Almost forgot” Cheekbones said stopping right before he left; it was only then that Arthur noticed the small orange bag he had been carrying over his elbow all along. “Brought you this and I’ll hate to see it go to waste” he continued as he put the bag down on the floor, right next to his feet that were almost completely outside.

“What is it?” Arthur asked curiously but not too much to actually make the walk to his side and see for himself. He didn’t know what he could do or what could he start thinking about at being so close to him.

“Ginger spiced lattes” he said with a mute expression. “There was a sale on a friend’s coffee house and I thought I could bring you some Christmas flavoured thing” he finally said before closing down the door behind him without so much as a goodbye.

Arthur felt sick to his stomach with the turn of events and he walked to the door to grab the bag. Two closed small coffee cups remained inside with a package of Christmas cookies --he could see the Christmas trees and elves smiling back at him from the cover of the bag and it all made everything feel even worse than before. Gwaine’s grip stole the bag from him before he could even realize it. He wanted to protest but he felt tired and knew too well he didn’t have the right to claim the present like his property after he had treated so rudely to the present giver.

“For god’s sake Arthur, how can you be so thick in real life?” Gwaine said as he walked to the kitchen carrying the bag with him leaving Arthur to walk into the living room and rest on his sofa.

“What are you talking about?”

“He helped you when you were in need and came back the next day with coffee for you and you go ahead and treat him like he was dirt or something”

“You don’t know him” Arthur said defensively. “He’s the most obnoxious person in the world”

“Yes, I could see that. A true ogre”

Arthur groaned quietly, he knew how he became the villain in this story but everything was still too fresh for him to contemplate the entirety of his mistake with the gift of insight.

“You are a real treat Pendragon” Gwaine said walking towards the door empty handed. He didn’t look back to where his friend was now standing but he felt his disapproving eyes over him. “Just do everybody a favour princess and don’t become the Grinch. Just don’t” he said before leaving him alone.

Arthur fell to a side of the couch and rested there for a good hour before going to his kitchen to find the two cups of coffee already cold. He threw them to the bin without thinking about it as well as the Christmas bag. As he saw the three objects lying flatly surrounded by garbage, Arthur was truly convinced nothing good ever came from celebrating the holidays.

 


	7. Let It Snow

Arthur woke up that Wednesday morning realizing the worst had happened: it was snowing heavily outside his window. It was also probably snowing heavily outside everybody else’s windows but he only thought based on what he saw and what he saw was a thick layer of white nuisance through the crystal. He could tell just from the sight of it that this wasn’t going to be _his_ day.

Snow fulfilled no real purpose in life beyond disturbing people’s work schedules and blocking houses’ exits. Nothing with the simple consistency of frailty to heat could be useful to society. If it was up to Arthur’s call, then he would have banned snowing from happening forever which not only meant he should have powers to control mother nature but it would also mean the human race had been foolish enough to put him in charge of the world. Arthur didn’t necessarily think he would do a terrible job at being the supreme over lord of the world but it did sound like an awful lot of responsibility and social interaction with the rest and just the thought of it wore him down.

It appeared he was getting older by the minute when the thought of ruling the world signified too much work for him.

Arthur proceeded to chant a series of unintelligible words under his breath as he walked towards the shower and his kitchen for a bland breakfast. He didn’t know why suddenly everything seemed to annoy him or why his coffee maker was so damn slow or why the walls of his flat stood there doing nothing. It took a great toll of his will power to tell himself he wasn’t bitter, just tired... and upset at the world for sending him snow.

He was almost expecting for his car to malfunction when he started the engine but he relished at the thought of something nice finally happening to him, who had only been a beacon of joy over the past days. Yes, Arthur thought, keep lying to yourself you crazy bastard.

When he parked his car outside and felt the start of a migraine, he realized that perhaps maintaining a delusional approach to life was very exhausting. 

The mood at his office was dull as ever if he ignored Elena’s happy embraces (because apparently he had been greatly missed by everybody but since nobody else bothered to greet him, Arthur suspected this was a lie made from Elena’s constantly happy approach to life) but he sensed a change in the air the minute Morgana stepped inside his office at lunch hour. “What do you want?” he asked without raising his sight from the finance’s report of the last trimester.

“Hello to you too” she said, seating in front of him and placing a platter of food where he was reading numbers and columns that only made sense to a very specific group of the world population --it didn’t help to cheer Arthur up the fact that said group was a very boring and bitter bunch of lonely men scattered around the globe running like he did from Christmas season. “Now stop and eat sushi. There’s nothing less Christmas-y than sushi in the world” she said, shoving a pair of chopsticks directly to his chest.

“And why are you doing this?”

“Because you are my brother and I care”. They shared an adult version of their old staring contests (the only difference being they were now adults) before Morgana broke their gaze and threw her hands into the air. “Okay fine, you win. The girls went out on a business trip yesterday and I’m bored. But that doesn’t mean I still don’t care”

Arthur put the files down and opened the lid staring back at the avocado rolls -his favourites- waiting to be devoured and felt thankful that at least Morgana had not ruined lunch hour. “I’m moved to tears by your kindness”

“Well don’t make a big fuss about it. I feel weak just to think about being charitable again”

“A true Christmas miracle” he said before stuffing his mouth with raw fish and denial.

**~~~~~~**

Elena was looking at her yellow shoes while standing at the door of Arthur’s office, probably thinking that as long as there wasn’t any eye contact she was as good as invisible. A tactic Arthur had made good use of in the past.

“What is it Elena?” he asked before she started to weep sadly like a puppy asking for permission to get inside the house.

“It’s nothing really” she said, shrugging her shoulders with fake easiness.

“What?” Arthur sighed. For a moment he thought perhaps she had got him another Christmas present or was preparing herself to hug him ten more times in under five minutes. He wasn’t sure which thought sounded more terrifying.

“It’s just that a group in the office was thinking, since it snowed so much in the morning but now was over, we could take a break and go see outside for a moment” Elena said, looking fearfully back at Arthur. He turned around his chair back to his window where the snow had packed together outside the windowsill. Even though he had been the boss of the entire plant floor for almost two years now, it still felt strangely out of place when a co worker went to him asking for permission --it made Arthur feel dangerously close like his father who people revered and feared in equal manner. He guessed than wasn’t necessarily his case with the rest of the office but this was one of those moments when he seriously doubted his position at work. He knew he was the boss but he didn’t want for people to think he was something unreachable or less like them... even though he almost made it a sport to interact the least possible with everybody else. A sport which he always won.

Once he realized there really wasn’t any way to deny her request without looking like a real ogre, he sent her away with his approval but stopped her right before she even suggested he should join them. There was a line between the boss’s behaviour around his employees and a second one between Arthur and snow. Suddenly the entire floor seemed to empty itself in one second as he heard a rush of steps leaving their offices and closing doors behind them.

Quickly Arthur found himself completely alone. He looked back at the report sent by the merchandising division early that day and did not cave to the urge of glaring through his window to look over how everybody else was having fun.

**~~~~~~**

Things would be easier for him if he smoke because then he could explain he was outside for his cigarette break but since he didn’t have a cigar in hand and the cigarette break area was on the 12th floor, nobody was going to be fooled by his tactic.

The sight that greeted Arthur when he stepped outside the building’s parking lot was straight out of a 50’s catalogue of the traditional American Christmas. People were building snowmen and some other, clearly more enthusiast and with less respect for their clothes, were making snow angels next to the cars. Initially Arthur was shocked to see just how many people worked for him but when he saw Sefa, Morgana’s assistant building a snow castle next to Elena he realized either the joy of his employees had spread faster than wild fire or Elena had planned on high-jacking the entire office building all along.

His nose felt red from the cold and he feared if he took a second step his shoes would be completely ruined and he’d walked back home with a pair for soaking feet. As long as he stayed there, things would be okay for him.

Then, when Arthur had believed things were _actually_ okay for him, his eyes found his sister building an atrocity of a snowmen alongside a figure Arthur hated for recognising so well by now. Just at the thought was forming itself inside his head, Cheekbones turned around and saw him standing probably looking like an office fool standing awkwardly in the North Pole. Arthur felt his cheeks going hotter than his own nose, embarrassed and not really knowing what to do next. They hadn’t necessarily parted ways amicably but it was fair to say that by now Cheekbones was more than sick of him and would never want anything to do with him (something that Arthur was totally fine with thank you very much).

Cheekbones smiled awkwardly at him as if he didn’t know what to do next either. Arthur had thought he was actually about to wave at him when Morgana turned around too and took the other man away by her arm. The idea of Cheekbones being with his sister suddenly made Arthur loose all physical coordination and he fell hard to the floor after he had subconsciously took a step forward into their direction. He felt his trousers wet underneath him and an insufferable amount of privy eyes piercing right to his direction. Perhaps he could build a cave in the snow and wait inside till spring had arrived.

“That was a nasty fall mate”

“Just leave me here to die” Arthur said recognizing Cheekbones’s voice and helping hand over his face. He would have kept on rambling on the awful day he was living if a snowball had not fallen over his head, stuffing every possible hole with frozen water. “What the hell?” Arthur asked enraged getting up and cleaning his face. “Are you trying to kill me here?” he asked to Cheekbones who actually got the nerve to stay there and laugh at him.

“I didn’t know you could be so overly dramatic” he said rolling his eyes.

“I can die of hypothermia now, thank you very much” Arthur told him, trying to not let too much snow fall over the collar of his jacket to his chest. “And I’m not overly dramatic” he added furiously.

“Yes, you seem very smooth and calm all the time”

“Why are you playing with my snow? You don’t even work here”

Cheekbones looked at him as if he was trying to make sure he was real and raised an eyebrow smiling with disbelief. “ _Your_ snow?” he snorted.

“It’s my office building” Arthur said defensively.

“Of course. It makes so much sense it almost sounds stupid”

“Did you just call me stupid?”

“Why? Does that word belong to you too?”

“Shut up and leave my parking lot--”

“He will do no such thing” Morgana interrupted him materializing by their side and taking one of Chekekbones’s long arms under her own. A foul taste appeared in Arthur’s mouth but he blamed it in all the tasteless snow he probably had tasted because of the other man’s fault. “He’s my guest and I want him here. He’s too fun to let go”

It was now Arthur’s turn to look with probable disbelief to the pair in front of him. “How did you even know each other?” I’m the one who knows him more, he was about to say but very wisely bit his tongue before humiliating himself any further --as if such thing was even possible.

“We bonded in the A&E over your bad luck and I told you I was bored. He’s here to keep me amused”

“He’s not your boy toy Morgana” Arthur spoke severely. The idea of Cheekbones actually bonding with somebody like his sister was equivalent to the world ending or running out of milk at two in the morning, whichever occured first.

“But he’s so fun!” Morgana wined tugging Cheekbones closely by the arm looking like a small girl that has just found out she’s only getting twenty one dolls over Christmas and not twenty two if said girl was also a twenty seven woman able to kill a man using only her manicured nails.

“He can’t be your friend”

“He’s right here” Cheekbones intervened, placing himself right in front of Arthur’s field of vision. For a second he forgot what he was discussing when their eyes locked for a brief moment. “And he wants to be with Morgana”

The utterance of those words made Arthur feel sick to his stomach and every other available organ inside his body. Fine, he thought still upset but now bitterly resigned to a live of staring back at him and his sister looking with love in their eyes --he could see now the wedding and the babies, the seemingly killer combination of his sister’s piercing eyes and Cheekbones’s cheekbones. Fine he thought again, he wasn’t going to be the person that stood between his sister and true love even when said true love came in the form of the most annoying person Arthur has ever met in his life. Just to imagine the future family’s dinners with him seating in his father’s manor and staring back at Arthur with those exact eyes; he’ll have to say goodbye to ever meeting his family ever again. “Fine” he said and turned back to leave the two of them alone with their blossoming love.

“Hey! Arthur Arthur!”

He looked back right the moment a second snowball hit him right in the nose. Okay, he thought, he would not be a proper Pendragon if he ran away from such an opened declaration of war. The bastard infatuated with his sister or not, was going down.

**~~~~~~**

After what Arthur thought had been the most brutal twenty five minutes of his existence he could call himself the undeniable champion of the harrowing snowball fight of Pendragon Industries. And if the defeated body of Cheekbones beneath him was of any proof, it had been a very spectacular victory.

“Get off you bastard. I can’t breathe!” Cheekbones complained under Arthur’s lethal embrace. He wasn’t exactly on top of him to be honest; it was more like a percentage of his body was over Cheekbones and the other was buried beneath a continent of heavy snow. Arthur felt a strange sensation every time his hand touched a part of Cheekbones’s uncovered body like his neck or cheeks but he always stopped himself from doing something else because this was his future brother-in-law after all.

“Arthur, stop bullying him. Don’t you see he might break?” Morgana said from a side. Arthur sighed and moved away from the other’s buried body. Cheekbones got up and looked at him pouting his fleshy lips.

“I forgot you were such a delicate flower” he said greening at him in response. They seemed to look at the other’s faces for an eternity before Morgana clasped her fingers in between their faces. “Oi, boys. We have work to do”

“I don’t” Cheekbones claimed triumphantly as if unemployment was the greatest idea in the history of mankind. “I don’t even work here. Might as well just leave”

“No” Arthur found himself saying before he could actually think things through. He should have gone with a casual “whatever” or an even more defiant, “see if I care” but what had left his mouth sounded more like he was begging him to stay.

Which he wasn’t.

At all.

He cleared his throat while getting up the small mountain of snow that had formed around his body, not caring too much about the state of his suit or the small pond that now seemed to be inside his shoes. “I mean” he said, his voice sounding more severe for no apparent reason, “You are right”

“Course I am” Cheekbones said, his usual smile looking different in a way Arthur couldn’t quite say. “Right” he said clapping his hand and immediately looking like he was asking himself why he did it. “Morgana, feel free to call me the next time this happens”

“Oh, I will” his sister told him, kissing him goodbye in the cheek -cheeks Arthur had know for far longer than her and therefore belonged to him by the solemn law of finders keepers- and patting him in the shoulders. “This looked very promising indeed”

Arthur made a face in disgust at the thought of what his sister considered promising regarding her sexual endeavours. Whatever promise she was talking about, it made Arthur’s chest ached. “So...” Cheekbones said extending the last sound long enough to make him look insane. He looked back at Arthur and his eyes gave the impression he was waiting for something from him but for the life of him, Arthur had no idea what was what he expected.

His blessing to start dating his sister? He would be buried in the cold hard ground before that ever happened. “Bye” Cheekbones finally said and shook Arthur’s cold hand, sounding clearly devastated --well, if he was actually expecting for him to tell him “go ahead” and be with my sister, he was going to sound devastated for a very long time.

“Arthur, you fool and your thick skull” Morgana told him right before he left her on her way to her floor on the lift. It didn’t affect him at all, if she wanted to pursue Cheekbones she would have to do it far away from his acceptance.

 

 


	8. O Christmas Tree

The envelope was medium size but made of the brightest red in existence so magically its size increased when placed right in front of Arthur’s eyes.

“I can’t begin to understand why my no-presents-rule it’s being so violently ignored this year” he mumbled receiving the envelope from Gwen’s eager hands who had shook the damned thing in front of his face long enough for him to acknowledge her presence, put down the sales report he was reading and contemplate the brightness of the material.

“Words in the street claim you are melting you ice façade” Gwen said happily.

“And these words will come from a dark-haired woman with no sense of privacy?”

“I don’t know why Gwaine gives you a hard time so much” she smiled, “You’re so smart Arthur”

“What’s in the envelope Guinevere? And make it quick, I’m working” he diverted from the topic.

Gwen glared at him as if she had just discovered he had been dropped by the head as a baby and the first signs of damage were showing alarmingly. “Did nobody teach you that you shouldn’t know what presents are about? People don’t go around wrapping things just because they looked pretty like that”.

Cheekbones probably did, Arthur thought surprising and scaring himself at the same time with the rapidity and overall supernatural sense behind the quick idea. Sometimes, when these thoughts surprised him during his day (and it happened more times than he was willing to admit) he had to kick himself in the chin trying to destroy the bad habit of calling him by his most prominent features besides his eyes -and he felt lucky the nicknames Ears never quite took off for him- and start thinking about him by his name....

Never mind that, he told himself quickly, just stop thinking about him and period.

Be over with it.

Arthur sighed and tiredly, opened the envelope with the same velocity as an old man trying to solve a puzzle without his glasses. It was painful to look really. “Seriously Guinevere?” he said, looking at her amused face while she bit her lower lip expectantly of his proper reaction. “There are really not enough words in the English vocabulary for me to phrase this properly but I. Am. Not. Taking. Cooking. Lessons” he said pointing at himself with the “I” and denying with his head while he mimicked the act of moving a pan --perhaps the visual help had been a bit too much for him to make his point straight but he wasn’t in the mood to go around playing his friend’s games.

“Then how are you expecting to prepare a proper Christmas dinner?” she asked crossing her arms in front of her chest in a gesture Arthur contemplated shockingly similar to his own; maybe Gwen was enjoying too much time alongside him and was about to pick all his bad character traits like his inherent bitterness and lack of joy. He knew he would not be able to live with himself if he was the cause behind the death of any shred of happiness in her face, most likely because Lance would have him killed instantly. Arthur also knew very well Morgana would be the first in line to help him hide the body.

Arthur touched his forehead, thinking if he felt it for too long he could convince his impending migraine to take the day off for once. He was about to say many things, words similar to “It’s not happening” or “I might die for this” but all that left Arthur’s mouth was a risible and slightly frightening growl.

“We’ll pick you up after five” she said smiling triumphantly.

“Wait” Arthur said, a cold and terrible realization hitting him in the back of the head like a bucket of cold water over his nape. “Who else is coming?” he asked but Gwen was long gone.

Arthur growled some more for all times sake and stared blankly at his computer screen, glaring with ice cold hatred to the small digital clock on the right corner. Perhaps he could scare time long enough to never reach five in the afternoon. Great Arthur, he mumbled, you go and wait for time to be distorted, that should be an easy solution. 

**~~~~~~**

When Gwen had said “we” a small and stupid part of Arthur’s brain had hoped the pronoun had meant her and Lance but when Arthur stepped outside, after three quick messages from her announcing they were waiting for him (the “they” feeling as ominous as it read), he saw a very packed car waiting for him. It seemed very close to implode in a fantastical yet tragic kind of way, like the saddest clown show ever, but he felt he preferred see all of his friend flying through the air than going to this stupid cooking lesson.

Inside the car he could tell Lance in the wheel with his wife at his side and in the back seat, he thought he was seeing Morgana’s long black hair, Gwaine’s long brown hair and... a pair of long ears in the middle. Arthur growled for the tenth time in the last hour. He really wasn’t in the mood to share a very scattered triple date with his sister and Cheekbones. Especially since he was the lonely third wheel bound to fall on Gwaine’s lethal embrace of bad jokes and loud laughter.

He saw Gwen waving at him to get inside but he pointed, in a rather comically fashion to his own car that faithfully waited for him on his usual corner. There seemed to be some sort of commotion inside the vehicle, Arthur saw too many faces and too many facial expressions changing between front and back seats before the back door opened and Morgana descended from inside. A loud gush of air was heard in the quiet empty parking lot but he made no comment about it. Morgana seemed like she was reading herself to join him for the ride when Cheekbones got out as well and she got inside in return. Perhaps the man had changed his mind and wasn’t interested any more in joining them.

It seemed very unlikely because Cheekbones seemed to have a natural gift to do the exact opposite Arthur always expected from him. Perhaps he wanted for a ride back home and was waiting to ask Arthur for it... but that started to look even more unlikely once they were both driving behind Lance’s car quietly, following the turns the other vehicle made.

“Is it always like that with you?” Cheekbones asked. Arthur didn’t look back at him because he was a very responsible man who always paid his entire attention to the traffic and not because he didn’t want to look at those curious eyes knowing they had probably stared at his sister longingly minutes before. “Do your friends always have to threaten you to come to these things?”

“I wasn’t threatened” Arthur said.

Merlin looked sceptical through the rear view mirror the second Arthur dared to steal a quick look. “Well, if this is your excited face I don’t dare to look when you are upset”

“I’m not upset” he said with frowning tightly. “I’m not very excited either”

“Why not? You don’t like cooking? I bet you have a maid doing all the nice things for you, maybe you don’t want to descend with us mortals”

When Arthur finally ventured to look at Cheekbones’s place he saw the man trying his very worst to hide a wide grin from spreading through his mischievous face. “Do you always babble so much?”

“It’s not babbling, it’s small talk” he said defensively.

“It makes no sense” Arthur spoke slowly, trying to make the other understand how odd he was. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could show how strange (and refreshing) he was for the rest.

“General small talk is to ask about the weather sitting next to a window. Of course it makes no sense”.

Even though he didn’t want to, Arthur genuinely laughed at the incredible notion someone like him actually existed to say things like that. The air inside the car seemed to fresh itself out from this and they both laughed, stealing mutual glances at the other through the crystal. In the end, Arthur got out of his car with a relaxed grin stock on his face and ignoring his friends’ confused yet amused expressions. 

**~~~~~~**

“You are making that face again” Cheekbones glared from a corner of his blue eyes at Arthur.

“No I am not” he said stubbornly. The face, which he wasn’t doing at all thank you very much, was closing his eyes and squint his face every time the other manipulated fire or used a knife. It wasn’t done on purpose but merely a reflex from Arthur’s old days at the kitchen when he was still too young and naive to think turkeys could not possible implode but right before you know it, there was a loud bang and pieces of shredded turkey decorated your TV set. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

“Yes you are” Cheekbones said turning to face Arthur while holding a large butchering knife he had just used to dismembered with a ruthless calculation a poor dead bird. The edge of the sword (because Arthur was sure that thing had been used to bring cities and castles to defeat before) was standing right in front of his chest and he felt unease at the idea that with one simple sneeze he could finish impaled at a cooking class.

Cheekbones most have seen his stiff shoulders and his slight step back from him because he turned back to where the turkey was awaiting for his cremation. “You know, between the two of us, I think it’s very clear which one is more prompted to accidents”

Arthur walked fiercely forward, standing both besides but hidden by the other’s shoulder while Cheekbones massaged the turkey skin with butter. “Are you saying I’m clumsy?”

Cheekbones laughed quietly while touching every single possible edge of the dead creature with a tenderness Arthur felt out of place for a kitchen --it was the sort of intimate touch you expect to find in a bed and not in a kitchen counter. Was he like that with everything it felt on his hands or was he doing it purposely to lure his sister who was cooking on the far left corner next to Gwen? “I’m not saying you are clumsy on purpose, but you’re not very coordinated mate”

“Take that back!” Arthur said shocked. He might not be able to perform brain surgery or skip in one leg while touching his head but he was very coordinated in all the departments that needed him to be. Like when walking and similar actions... like pacing, for instance. Arthur was very good at the whole pacing business.

“Prove me wrong” the other said defiantly. He gave Arthur the knife with his buttered and sticky fingers. “Chop those carrots” he said pointing back with his head to a pair of fat orange and useless carrots. “Chop chop” he finished closing the distance between him and Arthur with a raised eyebrow and a strange scent he couldn’t quite tell what it was made of.

He almost - _almost-_ chopped down one of his fingers realizing it had been Cheekbones’ natural scent. Good gracious, Arthur thought, the man smelled like a summer night with a nice wine by his side and now that smell was going to impregnate his sister’s flat forever. As on cue, Arthur looked up from the butchered first carrot and saw his sister looking at him with a curious face. At first Arthur had been slightly confused when he was (almost furiously) paired with Cheekbones for the class but when he saw Lancelot walking next to Gwaine he assumed this was some sort of strange mingling activity where every couple enjoy at good time away from their significant others. He only hoped the evening didn’t end up with a scene cut from “Swingers”, that was a long time in therapy he wasn’t willing to pay for.

“Quickly slave, I need those carrots!” Cheekbones shouted from Arthur’s right. He seemed to have finished off with the turkey and was now concerned with the roast potatoes. “Chop chop I said!”

“Shut up” Arthur told him while giving him what he considered to be his best job at the whole cuisine activity without having to report any lost limbs or rivers of blood next to the salt. Cheekbones took Arthur’s present and looked at him like he was dressed like a carrot more like and was busy dancing around a flaming broccoli. “What?” he asked confused.

“I said chop them, not smash them” he said laughing. Arthur looked at the other’s glossy hands from the butter; he didn’t think there was anything wrong with the carrots --yes, of course, they might had lost some of the consistency solid objects seemed to have but besides that, there were fine. Cheekbones was just being too picky.

“They are fine” Arthur said crossing his arms, staining his sleeves with a betraying shade of bright orange. Why was Cheekbones being so annoying about this? Wasn’t important that the sodding things tasted like carrots? Their physical consistency could hardly be important while eating them. Cheekbones rolled his eyes dramatically -showing Arthur his long exposed neck in the mean time- and tossed even more dramatically the carrot pure over the potatoes. He was mumbling something about “orange potatoes” and “smashing everything” that made him frowned like an overly upset puppy. Arthur felt like looking to the corners of the room looking for a camera and asked the audience if this man was real. “If you are such a great cook, why are you even here? This is a cooking course in case you noticed. People are here to learn, if you know so much, you should leave” he said.

Cheekbones looked up from the mess Arthur was sadly responsible for (even though he couldn’t care less about those stupid carrots and potatoes and the turkey was as good as dead for him on the side) and stared back at him. He couldn’t read his expression but something told him he had just behaved like something that rhymed with “rat”.

“Look, I’m sorry” Arthur sighed, “I just don’t get why would you go on a date with my sister with all of us here” he said. Arthur felt that as soon as he got a sensitive answer explaining this whole ordeal, the sooner he will be able to move on from his non-infatuation.

Instead Arthur got hit by a fiery ball of shredded carrots to his nose.

That, to say the least, was not the reasonable explanation he was looking for.

A choir of shocked gasps and laughter started to shyly irrupt from every corner in the room. The class’s teacher, Mister Areadian, tried to shush the noises down but someone as a case of bad influence (Arthur could bet everything he owned that it had been Gwaine) decided to jump forward to throw food to one another. When Arthur contemplated through a curtain of carrots, a potato flew by over his head he decided he had had enough of cooking lessons for his life time. He was about to leave when a firm grip held his arm and sent him straight to the floor under a table; he was still tasting the last remains of Cheekbones’ projectile while licking his lips and almost bit down his lower lip with the sudden motion. “What the hell?” Arthur asked, already more enraged than usual.

“It’s a war zone outside, can’t you see?” Cheekbones laughed next to him in their new very secluded hiding spot. After crashing his head trying to look up, Arthur felt startled to notice he was hiding under a table with _that_ man next to him.

“No, I can’t see! I have carrots to my nostrils. I probably have some inside my brain by now!” he shouted but as the words progressed his anger decreased slowly at the same pace he cleaned his face from every last bit left. “Why did you do that for?”

“You deserved it” he said as if it was the most normal thing for a person to do when being asked about his possible date.

Arthur snorted the last piece of carrot from his nose and looked to the other. Cheekbones’s eyes seemed brighter under the dim light and his lips were pursed tightly distorting the features of his face into a whole different person. Arthur felt he was looking at him for the first time in a long time. Now it was more than obvious he had in fact carrot tucked inside his skull.

He wanted to ask why he did deserve it but words were lost to him while staring with no shame towards the other; he hoped perhaps his eyes could convey the question he couldn’t phrase and for a moment Cheekbones appeared to receive Arthur’s psychic message. Yet, without previous notice, a bomb seemed to explode right to where they were. A meaty stuffed and buttered bomb Arthur recognised as somebody else’s turkey. Things seemed to be getting slightly more intense outside.

Now Cheekbones had raw turkey all over his face and made a constipated face while finding some chunks of stuffing near his ridiculous ears. The sight of this man covered in meat made Arthur chuckled with no sense of respect towards common sense but somehow, he noticed that since he had first met the other man a week ago, common sense had taken a little bit of a holiday probably to the Caribbean. “Glad you find it funny” Cheekbones said.

Arthur kept on laughing, without caring for a single second about his own attacked face --he probably had more turkey over his hair than Cheekbones. “You started it”

“You started it!” the other said tossing something that hardly passed now like cranberry.

“How is that even possible? You assaulted me!”

“Because you deserved it, making your stupid questions and all”

“It was a fair concern. Why did you bring my sister here for a date?”

“Why do you think I want to date your sister?”

“Because...” Arthur spluttered suddenly unsure of what was happening, “She called you and you seemed to be getting along pretty well” he said, remembering Cheekbones leaving his office building walking with his skinny arm trapped under his sister’s lethal grip.

“And men and women can’t be friends now” Cheekbones spoke unimpressed at his almost perfect logic, “Besides I think my gayness it’s kind of a deal breaker for us”

Arthur felt like choking in a sea of turkey, carrots and other various ingredients that continued to surpass his sight from one corner of the room to another, at the revelation. Cheekbones was staring at him, clearly waiting for his reaction but there was no time for him to do anything.

“We need to leave now” said Lance, showing his perfectly noble features at the worst possible moment. “Some ladies had cornered Aredian with boil vegetables”

Cheekbones looked at Arthur one last time before jumping impressively given the length of his legs out of their hiding spot leaving a very perplexed, yet also exhilarating excited Arthur behind.

 


	9. Carol of the Bells

Arthur liked to think in between all the madness his life had spiralled into over the last days, there were still some few elements of his adored routine he could always count on. For starters, he always drank his coffee black at exactly nine thirty five every morning because that was the perfect hour for Arthur to do nothing while lingering at his office since everyone else usually arrived at nine forty-five. Arthur drank it aimlessly trying not to think how sad it was this was one of the very rare moments of his day when he could find the time to do and worry over nothing. Morgana usually teased him saying he felt that way because the bitterness of his coffee matched the bitterness of his dead soul but she only said as a joke (he hoped).

Sometimes, even when Arthur felt truly silly for it, he did worry for his state of mind and his obvious lack of something-else-that-made-all-things-shine-with-bliss he didn’t think he had ever possessed.

He felt frighten at the notion his heart might be as black as his coffee and that perhaps, Christmas and him didn’t get along because he wasn’t entitled to actually celebrate like the rest of the world --he feared for his blacken soul being the reason behind his forced habit of ignoring all the things that were red, green and entertaining. But in most of the cases, that moment of self realization and deep analysis only lasted from nine thirty-five to nine forty-four, one minute before all the life in the office could start reminding him there were things far more important than whether he enjoyed or not Christmas time.

Another thing Arthur felt he could rely on without a shadow of a doubt was his car. The black Ford Tauros had been alongside him for as long as Arthur had got over his fear of driving ever since he had almost ran over a representation of the birth of Christ when he had been fifteen years old. He treated the vehicle with the same care some people treated their children -or even so, their pets- and cared for its safety with an almost eternal passion. Gwen, Lance, Morgana and pretty much anyone with a pair of eyes and basic understanding of human interactions thought they way he related to his car was very odd but he didn’t care.

Fairly, sometimes Arthur couldn’t sleep thinking he had used a tie that didn’t match his socks the morning before but when it came to him and his car -called Porthos after his favourite musketeer- he didn’t care for pity judgement. Besides, as far as he was concerned, it was still his longest withstanding relationship till date.

Arthur cared for Porthos. He sent it to expensive wax sessions every month; he made sure to park particularly tenderly every time fearing something -probably a gush of air- could scratch its bodywork. He even talked to it when his days at the office were too much for him to handle with his usual loneliness. Maybe, _just maybe_ , considering an inanimate object as your best friend wasn’t the healthiest of habits but it was still fairly reasonable. He wasn’t taking it to dates or kissing it in dark places so for all that Arthur could consider, he could be doing a lot worse. Yet he couldn’t help to love the car and stared at him with angels in his eyes from adoration; he was courteous to it and treated it like royalty.

**~~~~~~**

“Oh you sodding flying fuck! Start already!” Arthur shouted locked inside Porthos, probably looking like a very decently dressed mad man shouting to a car. “Fucking hell, just do something!” he pleaded, hitting the steering wheel furiously. He could feel himself freezing slowly while waiting for any sort of reaction out of his car. Arthur cursed his inevitable talent to always stay till very late at the office and now Porthos was stubbornly letting him down.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go in his life. His life was meant to be a series of actions based on the presence of a starting coffee and the constant company of his serviceable vehicle --he had already been let down once today when the espresso machine seemed to stop working at all without explanation (and he was still a little bit touchy at the thought of going outside to buy a cup, not fearing aggressive elves at all) but he didn’t know how would he react if Porthos abandoned him as well.

The disappointment and despair would be so great Arthur might stop caring about anything at all.

He tried furiously pressing the key for almost thirty minutes before admitting defeat. It just wasn’t fair. His life had suddenly turned into a serious of events were justice and fair play were not admissible any longer. People stealing his chocolates, people singing with cheeky grins, people hoarding Santa’s time, people appearing in the middle of the night with tight leather jackets, people tackling crooked elves and defending his honour, buying him coffee and throwing snow at him but more importantly, people being exactly what Arthur wanted.

No! he told himself, this was the hypothermia speaking to him... and sure it did, saying ridiculous things to his ear in dead tongues teasing his composure with the idea of the work of alive tongues over his earlobe. No! Arthur repeated taking his key and briefcase and getting out of his car (who had shamefully disappointed him today), this was the work of the crude winter and nothing more.

When he called for help, they told him there had been a massive accident in the south-east corner of the city so he wasn’t expecting to know from them in more than an hour, at least. When he called Morgana he was directed to a chilling voice mail where his sister stated her name in no more than two seconds before ending the message; she probably didn’t get too many voice mails, most people surely opted to flee before accepting her challenge of leaving their message after the beep. Gwen was visiting his father and brother away from the city and Lance was doing a double shift at the hospital. Arthur decided he would rather being left there buried under the cold snow before calling Gwaine for help. Balancing his options, he decided to catch the Tube and mingle with the rest of the crowds that surged from every corner of the city, all too eager to arrive at their destinations. He felt he could somehow relate to that sense of urgency.

Even when he hadn’t taken the Tube in almost a year, Arthur didn’t feel he could be too foreign as he had expected before. The people hardly noticed his presence and he was hardly lurking around the station trying to find the most comfortable corner to wait for the train to arrive. He was some eleven stations away from his flat but with the pace and rapidness of the system, he didn’t think it would take him longer than an hour. Arthur felt convinced this has been a very good idea after all.

**~~~~~~**

Everyone felt so sweaty, Arthur wailed when the fifth person in a row touched his arm with his overly humid belly. It made no sense and didn’t follow a single rule of biology, chemistry and physics combined: the air was freezing, it was the start of a very harsh winter, how could it be possible for everyone to be filled to every pore with hot and reeking sweat? Without mentioning the fact his arse had been properly groped about six times, this was looking like Arthur’s worst idea of the week.

He really did try to endure the pain of sharing a small secluded space with a bunch of strangers that smelled of sardines and long hours inside a cubicle, for as long as he could. But by the time the train reached the third station and a new wave of people moved forward his car, Arthur started to feel the slow burning surge of panic escalating through his throat and got out as fast as he could, damning behind any laws of etiquette he could respect. He only managed to start breathing again once the train was long gone and a cold sentient breeze reached his face.

The station, to his dismay, wasn’t completely empty but he could sense that the four people who waited alongside him -all of them smartly scattered through every possible edge of the place- didn’t mean any danger for Arthur’s impending need for space and loneliness. He still felt bitter and upset at how Porthos had failed him when he only treated him with every inch of love he had inside his bones but he was more upset with himself.

Normal grown man shouldn’t feel so flustered and misplaced while taking the Tube --it became apparent for Arthur this was one of those moments when he realized there was something missing in his life but the occasion wasn’t sufficient to provide a proper answer for his predicament. It was like sensing a hole somewhere inside of you, knowing there was just one thing that could fill it but not knowing what it was. He sat on a green stool and contemplated train after train passing by in front of him without moving a muscle. He just felt too tired to try it again. Arthur felt his eyes wavered at the waste of energy and for a couple of seconds, doze off from there.

**~~~~~~**

The significant change in the air one gets when a person moves closer woke Arthur, who quickly kicked himself mentally for actually falling asleep on a bloody train station like a common homeless man and allowing himself to become an easy prey for any interested person looking to earn some quick money with his belongings.

He frowned at the same time he yawned tiredly. He thought he had judged the rest of the people in the station to properly guess they would not venture to make small talk to one another and let themselves wait at peace. Then Arthur remembered how many trains he had seen passing by: his past partners would be long gone now sleeping in their homes. Probably there had been more than one change of passengers around his sleeping form and whoever this new person was, he or she certainly did smell very nice. Arthur smiled still working on how to open and see with his eyes like a normal human being: the person smelt like Christmas in a jar.

A pointy elbow suddenly struck him in the lower rib cage, waking him properly at last. “What the he--” Arthur jerked vexed. “Dear god, are you following me?”

Cheekbones glared at him smiling, or so Arthur thought it was a smile since the man’s mouth was half covered in a horrendous grey and orange scarf. He was wearing a baggy brown jacket that only accented the thinness of his legs beneath it; he had an oversized blue hat and looked more like a lost extra from a Muppets’ Christmas special. On a normal circumstance, the man’s appearance would be risible but Arthur didn’t know if it was the lack of sleep, the strange blueness that had overcome his temper in the last half an hour or the other’s endearing smile that made Arthur smiled back. “Not following you, you prat. I work around here”

“Right” Arthur nodded blushing after noticing for how long he had been staring back at Cheekbones and looking away, “Your pharmacy”

“You remember” Cheekbones said surprised.

“Of course I do” Arthur said. He felt the compulsion to add how much he had been replaying every one of their encounters when he went to sleep every night but thought best not to. “How could I forget all the lives in danger for letting you handle their medicines?”

“And here I thought you were being nice” laughed the other in all good spirits.

“Whatever gave you that impression?”

“Don’t know” Cheekbones said pouting his lips, “Most have been a trick of the light”

They fall into a comfortable silence after that, Arthur feeling certainly amazed on how at ease he felt just seating next to the other quietly with only the sound of the wind blowing over their contrasting heads. He never got to experience these moments, not in a very usual manner and especially not at this time of the year: everyone was always so preoccupied to make sure he was either comfortable at being ignored from the traditions or making him feel uncomfortable at trying to force him to participate in said traditions. But seating there next to Cheekbones felt like a warm and cosy middle ground he could enjoy for a long time.

“Why are you here?” Cheekbones asked, his tone not being accusatory but genuinely curious and even, slightly concerned. Every time Arthur remembered the man asking him something, his tone always stayed in the same level: it wasn’t a question made for the sake of being polite, not even to fill the silence in the room but they were all done with the property of care and attention. As if he honestly wanted to know what happened to Arthur and what went through his mind. It was a warming and welcoming sensation.

“Porthos broke down” Arthur responded instinctively.

“I’m... Sorry?”

“My car” Arthur corrected himself, “Its name is Porthos and it refused to start”

“Oh” Cheekbones whispered tentatively. Arthur thought he saw some pink tones appearing timidly around his cheeks but like the man himself, Arthur blamed on a trick of the light. He felt about to mention something, anything really, just for the sake of trying to accentuate that colour of his face but the distinctive sound of a train approaching the station made him stopped on his feet (figuratively of course).

Cheekbones got up from the stool and walked to the sideline. When he realized he was there alone, he glared back at Arthur and observed his petrified figure still seated on its place. He seemed to be assessing some new information for his eyes darted from one place to another on Arthur’s face and he, no stranger to a good challenge -especially a challenge he knew he could participate in- decided to look back. Their eyes found each other as the train entered the station and Cheekbones returned to seat back at his side. He stretched his arms and fingers lazily and smiled wholeheartedly at him making Arthur’s heart jump while still seated. “Want to go for a walk mate? I feel my legs little bit soared from being seated on a chair all day” Cheekbones said with a wide-eye grin.

Arthur was becoming a bit of an expert at defining and classifying moments on his life. There were those when he was miserable and a few when he felt utterly lost; he could count with one hand the moments he had felt at ease with the world and only a couple where he could say honestly things seemed to be going alright. But in that moment, waiting in the middle of the night alongside a man of ridiculous sense of style and adoring face

Arthur was absolutely certain this was the moment he was ruined forever because in that moment, nothing else mattered except him and Cheekbones. It was a moment he wanted to store in a jar and keep it there for all eternity.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this was my favourite to write so far


	10. Winter Wonderland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> little bit of angst here (and thank you for all the lovely comments)

The incessant buzzing was filling every inch of Arthur’s flat and if he had not been too preoccupied by what he was going to wear that night, he might had even wasted a couple of seconds at grumbling upset for the noise. But Arthur was indeed too worried standing in front of his bathroom mirror staring idly at four different ties: the blue one matched his eyes but the red one contrasted them in a nice way, on the other hand the blue one with white stripes seemed more casual but the black one gave the tone of formality Arthur always hoped a man should portray at every moment.

He was starting to get a headache and once he noticed the doorbell ringing furiously, he jolted towards the door because he didn’t know if he could handle another second of it.

“So it is true!” Morgana said victoriously when Arthur opened the door. It was there when he noticed he was still wearing the four ties over his black shirt and very quickly, the red one matched his cheeks like the blue one did with his eyes. His sister sauntered her way into Arthur’s flat carrying three bags under her arms and filling the room with her perfume. Arthur didn’t want to stand too close at her, fearing her scent might attached itself like a rosy parasite and he would have to take a third shower -the second had been made mandatory once he realized there were actual pit stains underneath his arms- so he took a step back and let her walk all the way to his room. “I see you have been trying some outfits brother dear” she smirked all the way from inside.

Arthur’s eyes felt from their sockets when he ran to his room. The mess it showed was unlike him in every sense: there were shirts and trousers all over the place, one lonely sock over the curtain pole and several pants scattered around his bed. Arthur felt his face burning with the fire of thousands suns while he tried to hide the red and white pants out of his sister’s sight. “Hopefully you went for the other red ones you have” she murmured walking next to him and placing her bags over his bed. “But throw everything away, especially those ties” she said pointing at his chest with disgust drew on her face. He had never been the type with the perfect sense of style before, he always went for a classic picture and he didn’t know why he should throw everything away. It had always worked for him in the past so why mess with perfection now.

“What are you doing?” he asked while his sister started a full-on display over his bed of new clothes: two pairs of white and black button-downs, a new slim trouser and a pair of dark jeans Arthur would have never dared to pay for, a new silver tie -which Arthur has to admit looked rather dashing once you passed the flamboyance that inherently came from wearing metallic colours- and a comb. “Why is this one for?” he asked raising the violet comb.

“That’s mine” she said, “And don’t dare changing the topic. Go and change. Jeans and black, forget the tie and find some other shoes”

Arthur stared at her, body frozen for a minute, not even daring to blink. She was looking at him with a command drawn in her green eyes. Arthur only delayed the action for another second before taking the garments with him to the bathroom, mumbling some unintelligible words that sounded remarkably like “harpy” and “nosy”. She threw his red pants to the back of his head and Arthur slammed the door shut behind him. He had to wash his face with cold water trying to ease down the heat from the embarrassment: she was treating this like the date that _surely_ wasn’t.

**~~~~~~**

What had happened, that had Arthur on the brink of panic, had occurred almost right before Cheekbones had left him the night before after walking with him from the Tube to their homes. He had been panicking at the sight of being secluded inside the train and the other had been kind enough to not touch the sensible issue and instead, talked to him about anything but Arthur’s fears. He felt happy and talked about so many random topics, he couldn’t remember a time when he had done something like that before. So when in the end, outside Cheekbones’ flat the man asked him if he wanted to catch a late night film the next day, Arthur had blurted a rambling yes before leaving and getting back at home to clean the cold sweat accumulated in his back.

It wasn’t a date, he repeated in his head. Dates involved the presence of feelings and ulterior motives. Cheekbones had just seen how shaken up he was and decided to help him, because he was a nice person and that’s what nice people do: help and talk about nonsense to distract the others. Arthur couldn’t even begin to think what nice people did on their dates --that was whole different set of actions he couldn’t consider while going to Cheekbones’ building. He did wish he would have packed a second shirt to hide the pit stains, just in case.

“Hi” Cheekbones greeted him outside their building. Arthur had thought for a second to go upstairs but that would have seen to date-like so he called the other and after a five minutes wait, they were now standing awkwardly -and he thought he saw a glare of anticipation in the gleam of Cheekbones’ eyes when their eyes met- next to Arthur’s taxi. Porthos having to forcedly descend into the claws of the mechanical he had called early on that day.

“Hi” Arthur said. Should he extend his hand and shake the other, like a business ordeal or a hug was in question between them?

In the end, it did not matter, Cheekbones pointed at the taxi still waiting behind him and Arthur woke up and stopped imagining scenarios where he could hug the other freely and without having to think about the said action for an hour. How would that feel?

“Right” he mumbled, still slightly startled, “Taxi. Get in”

He probably wrinkled every possible muscle on his face when Cheekbones got inside and he realized what he had just said. “Yes sire” the other had said before tugging inside the taxi with a small bow. After Cheekbones told the taxi driver the directions, they went through a silence that to very much Arthur’s dismay did not resemble at all to the quietness they had experienced the night before. Perhaps he had read all the signs wrong and he and Cheekbones didn’t get along as well as he had presumed. I mean, he thought sadly, why would they? They were as different like the two opposites sides of a magnet. Or something similarly deep like that.

Did that didn’t mean you are naturally attracted to the other, then? A small nagging voice inside Arthur’s head teased him. Why his subconscious had to always sound like Morgana?

“You okay there?” Cheekbones asked, “Not having second thoughts and hoping to jump out of the car?” he said with a flash of doubt drawn on his face. The fear that Arthur might even considered endangering his own life just for the sake of not spending time with him was endearing in a very disturbing sense of the word.

Arthur shook his head apologetically. “Not for now” he smiled.

Cheekbones actually blushed and hid his adorable stupid face inside his violet scarf. Arthur caught a small smile from the taxi driver as he made a left turn through the rear view mirror. Well, he thought, if they made a funny looking picture for a stranger who made a living of moving around other strangers around town... then things couldn’t be so impossibly ruined.

**~~~~~~**

“This...” Arthur said startled, “This is something else”

“Not what you were expecting surely”

“Well...” he thought for a second staring at the poster in front of them. The line behind them seemed to be getting larger and larger with the passing seconds. “No, really didn’t”

“Something else then?”

Arthur was sure his eyes had gone ridiculously wide in a very cartoonish manner when he first saw the film’s title after a ten minute wait in the line. He ought to have known what film they were actually going to see but Cheekbones had only casually mentioned it was Christmas theme. “Something classical: _It’s a wonderful life, A Christmas Carol_ , something like that”

Cheekbones laughed by his right and rested his hand over Arthur’s shoulder making him forget for a second --not long enough to actually forget the film itself but sufficiently to warm one whole side of his body. “Aren´t you so posh?”

“But what sort of person makes a midnight showing of _The Muppet Christmas Carol_? It’s a children’s film” he blurted still confused yet not as disturbed as he had been seconds before. It seemed Cheekbones’ touch had some magical qualities to calm his nerves down.

“Judging by the line behind us, a business savy that is and besides, half of the people here are grownups”

“That’s because the other half are children and those are their parents. We might get on a sex offender’s list for just standing inside”

A woman standing with two little girls glared at him at this. Probably best to not say any of those things so loudly surrounded by tired parents who were about to embark willingly to a two hours demonstration of screaming little children. If he had any doubt left this could be a date, Arthur was fairly certain this is not how he envisioned it and hopefully, Cheekbones neither because that meant he had serious mental issues.

And sadly, Arthur thought, he was too cute to be that crazy. Bat-shit crazy that is.

“Besides I liked for the semi-young Michael Caine” Cheekbones said laughing while pushing him inside by the back.

“Coming sire” Arthur mumbled flustered by the continuant touch of the other on him. If he had to endure two hours of puppets saving Christmas just to experience it then so be it.

**~~~~~~**

Arthur felt like he was walking on the moon wearing nothing but a onesie and completely wasted. It was the best possible combination of things happening to him in a very long time.

The film might had not been as spectacular as Cheekbones sold it before the opening credits but he had laughed, felt emotionally compromised and avoided masterfully any curious children when he went to the bathroom -because he had not been joking about the sex offender’s list before- so he could call the evening a success. But now, it was like the icy on the cake or the cherry on top or whatever other pastry analogy existed. Arthur had never, much to Cheekbones’s shock, gone for breakfast at two in the morning. It was something he had to have fixed at once apparently.

And now that he was practically feasting on a mountain of waffles, he could see very well why.

“Try to remember to breathe there” he heard but he was too busy devouring his sixth portion. He had never properly cooked this type of breakfast food before; he was more a just-a-cup-of-coffee sort of man, nothing that could take him more than ten minutes tops. “You look like you never eaten a waffle before”

“I had” Arthur said with half of his mouth covered in maple syrup. “Once” he continued remembering the time his nanny had caved to his requests and made him a circular thing that resembled closely to... well, practically nothing edible if he had to be honest but the intention was what had counted in the end. “Wasn’t that good”

Cheekbones stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief. “Just once?”

Arthur mentally kicked himself for his indiscretion. Now, the other probably pitied his sad sad childhood and was staring at him like a bad case of troubled kid. He wasn’t sure if the human body was made to endure its own weight on waffles and being pitied at the same time. “Waiter!” Cheekbones called to the young girl working very late at the dinner behind the counter. “Can we get two more portions to go please?”

He smiled victoriously at Arthur, as if his glistening eyes were actually saying something close to “See? I don’t pity you but you are going to enjoy this nonetheless” or so Arthur presumed. He found out he actually didn’t care, as long as Cheekbones kept on giving him this glorious pieces of bakery, the other could speak the entirety of the Divine Comedy with his eyes towards him for all he cared.

“Tell me” the other said stretching his back in an obscene manner showcasing his chest broadly at Arthur’s face filled with sugar and food’s traces. “Morgana said...” but he couldn’t finish for Arthur groaned instinctively at the mention of his sister meddling in his affairs. “What?” he asked amused.

“Whatever she said” Arthur explained after swallowing the last waffle on his plate. “It’s either an exaggeration or none of her business”

“Well, she said you hated Christmas” Cheekbones said, tilting his head to the side examining Arthur’s face. “Was that too much and your feelings for Santa are lesser or none of her business”

“Both?” Arthur tried. The waiter appeared at his right and placed a bag that smelled of heaven and sugar in front of his face and for a second, Arthur even forgot on what planet he was living. Cheekbones did not look satisfied but he wasn’t lying about it: he didn’t hate the holiday, it was more like a misunderstanding between them and Morgana had no business sharing this with other people. Especially people Arthur was fairly interested in impressing --he knew his personal quarrel with Father Christmas did not make a lasting good impression.

“I think she cares” he said with a sympathetic smile, “I also think you don’t hate Christmas but maybe you don’t like it very much because you had never celebrated it properly before”

Arthur snorted, chuckled, laughed and every other way he could show how ridiculous the words sounded like. It wasn’t for lack of trying, of that, he was certain of but every time he had tried, something bad always happened. He had gone through the fancy dinners, the lights, the trees, the ugly-sweaters wearing ceremony on Christmas mornings and every single time, something ended up in disaster. Whether it was a turkey exploding, everything getting caught on fire or some old man dying from a heart attack at the party (taken that hadn’t been his fault but it still was an odd coincidence for him to die the exact same day Arthur wore a green reindeer sweater).

“Trust me” Arthur said, “I’ve tried. I’ve done all the obvious things. It just doesn’t work out”

“But that’s not the point!” Cheekbones argued.

“Are you telling me getting a Christmas tree is _not_ the point of Christmas?”

“It’s a traditional viewing but...” the man raised his hands to the air, like the point he was trying to make was floating across his face and he was fishing for the right words, or so he looked like to Arthur. Either that or he was about to start a session of modern dance in front of him. “Christmas is about spending time with people you cared for and who care for you”

“I have!” Arthur protested.

“Then why did Morgana say you always deny her invitations, and Gwen told me the other day you always had conveniently extra work to do on the 24th?”

Arthur felt taken aback by this sudden attack at his own holiday traditions. He wasn’t expecting to be so bared and vulnerable in front of him; the nice, lovely and simpler thoughts that had over flown his stomach after the almost waffle’s induced coma was very much gone. “I didn’t know you were so close friends to my friends. Or that you hang up to talk about me on how sad I must be”

“That’s not what I meant”

“No no no” Arthur shook his head, glancing sternly at the empty plate and filled bag in front of him instead of Cheekbones’s eyes filled with emotion. “I get it, must be a funny topic for your talks. Let’s talk about Arthur, dead inside who doesn’t know what joy is”

Cheekbones stared at him, hurt sunken his eyes and distraught. “No one said that”

“Is not necessary” Arthur said angered. “Everyone is always thinking that, why bother telling it to my face”. He got up, now more furious than before and started to make his walk to the dinner’s exit.

“Arthur wait!” Cheekbones pleaded behind him. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

In the end the only reason why he turned back was to pick up his waffles and leave, ignoring the look of pain in his none-date’s face.

 


	11. Little Drummer Boy

A knock on his door. A single one, almost completely vulnerable to the equal quietness of his flat. He didn’t want to look, less to greet whoever was standing there. Arthur felt scared of who might be but he only was frightened because he feared of one person being there, and he didn’t want to face it. Because he had gone home the night before, eaten his twenty waffles and realized how badly he had behaved at storming out like a ragging hormonal teen without even considering for a moment to discuss things further. And Arthur wasn’t exceedingly good at apologies and even less so when he wasn’t sure of what he ought to apologise for.  

“You know I have a key to spare, right?”

Arthur sighed, both relaxed to know it was only Guinevere and upset to the part of his mind who had dared to be disappointed because it was only her. He opened the door and his friend went inside, carrying a bowl with food and a kind smile in her face --he knew her lips were meant to show kindness, a warm feeling of sympathetic emotion but they weren’t the exact same shade of tenderness he had grown attached to. It wasn’t the kindness he wanted to receive; Gwen was glaring at him like a charity case with her food, how could he like that?

“What can I do for you?” he asked as politely as his annoyance allowed him.

“I called Merlin today” she said walking to his sofa and seating there. Arthur felt tired from the early morning wake and went to the kitchen for two cups of coffee. It wasn’t that early, closer to midday than to early morning, but he didn’t get to enjoy a long sleepless night like he used to.

“Why?” he asked giving her a cup of her own. He realized his voice sounded too tired to show entirely his anger for her meddling. Arthur was slowly realizing he was friend with people who were too interfering for their own good.

Gwen sighed and put her cup down -Arthur’s fingers instantly itched to give her a magazine for her to use as a coaster but he found his body too numb to move at all. Luckily for the integrity of his table, Gwen read his mind (probably) and used his bi-annual report on expenses like one. “Because he called me the day before excited for his date with you”

Arthur closed his eyes, perhaps when he opened them, Gwen might be gone, all would have been a bad dream and he was still on his bed the morning before still with enough time to not ruin everything during the night. But when he looked again, Gwen was stubbornly still physically present in his living room. “It wasn’t---”

“It was Arthur” she interrupted him. Her voice wasn’t nearly as enraged as her frowned face gave the impression but then again, Gwen got upset so rarely it was more like a default setting of her body to not properly show anything resembling a bad emotion. “A date that he thinks he ruined with his big mouth but I’m sure it wasn’t only his fault”

“He thinks it was his fault?” he asked surprised.

Well yes Arthur, a small pitching voice spoke to his ear, what did you expect for him to think after you shouted and blamed him for all your faults?

Arthur sighed heavily, Gwen held his hand and he felt like sinking deeply inside the cushions of his sofa. “I should call him”. It wasn’t a question but nevertheless, Gwen nodded. “And he would not want to hear me...”

She patted him in the shoulder, like someone does it when tries to comfort a small child. Perhaps she wasn’t doing it on purpose, perhaps she meant it when she did but it still felt as patronizing as if Arthur was a crystal figurine about to break if he was looked too severely. “Stop that!” he shouted. He got up and walked to the other side of the room, starting to pace around in front of his coffee table.

“Arthur, what is it?” she asked softly.

“That!” he said angrily again, pointing at his friend who looked with sweet eyes. “You treat me like a little child that needs to be guided”

“I only mean what’s best for you” she pleaded.

“I don’t need it! I just want for you to let me be who I want to be, alright? Let me be with my choices and if I don’t want to celebrate some meaningless holiday then leave me alone”

Gwen didn’t look at him and panic started to overflow Arthur’s stomach when he saw a small glimpse of a timid tear over the corner of her dark eyes.

God, what had he done?

“Guinevere” he whispered but she got up quickly and went to the door. “Guinevere!”

She simply nodded before closing the door behind her. “Put it in the fridge” she pointed to the bowl over the kitchen counter.

**~~~~~~**

When a second knock disturbed the peace of his flat, Arthur was more than prepare to face Lancelot’s raging wrath for making his wife cry. He opened the door with his closed eyes and face unclad to overlook the man’s fist.

“Sorry, I don’t follow my dear”

Arthur peaked and found Alice in front of his door with a cake on her hands and a confused smile, clearly evaluating her reasons to be there at that second; she was probably about to run scared of him, screaming for help. Then the police would arrive and he would spend Christmas rotting away in a cell. Perhaps there were better plans but he couldn’t think of nothing at the time.

“Is everything okay sweetie?”

“Yes, of course” he sighed tired, clearly not convincing her in the slightest.

“Listen honey” she said, ignoring his dead tone “I’m leaving for the holidays so I thought on bringing you your present now”

There were so many things Arthur could have said in that moment: _I don’t celebrate Christmas, I don’t want presents, how can I know whatever you cooked won’t attack me in the middle of the night, have you talked to Cheekbones today?_

So many options.

“Where are you going?”

“On a cruise ship to find love” she smiled. Oh god, Arthur thought, his seventy year old neighbour had more game than him.

He forced himself into a none-psychopathic smile and hoped he did a decent job at it. “Congratulations”

“Can you take this away from me please? It’s rather heavy, I always cooked too much just for one person”

“Of course, of course” he mumbled taking the heavy cake from her. It weighted a ton most likely, how many people did she think Arthur entertained at his home for tea? It would have to take at least fifteen people to finish half of it surely. Arthur didn’t even know fifteen people, where could he get them to invite them over for cake? The bloody thing was most likely going to rot in his fridge before he could even consider finishing a third of it.

“Make sure to give my love to Merlin dear!” she told him from the entrance to her own flat. Arthur wasn’t expecting, not by a long shot so the cake almost waver on his shaky hands but he didn’t dare to say something else.

“Will do” he mumbled.

Arthur contemplated his neighbour’s present –never in a million years he would have thought a neighbour would give him a Christmas present- over his dinner table for a good half an hour before taking a bite of it. Even after eating his entire weight on sponge, cream and dried fruits, the thing still weighed more than a normal cake when he put it away in the fridge.

**~~~~~~**

He had never done this before but something inside him urged him to at least give it a try, even though the chances of him getting mugged were greater than before and he was still a little bit wary looking from time to time behind his shoulders searching for suspicious elves. A midnight stroll always seemed to work for the characters in the films and books Morgana was constantly talking about. Why should he be the exception?

He assumed the sighting would be slightly more majestic than this but it was the city life and all the lanterns and tall buildings did a good job at concealing any possible apparition of stars above him. Perhaps he was just strolling on the wrong side of the city. Arthur stopped for a moment, close to defeat, how could he even mess up the idea of walking around? How difficult could it be? Just go around, use your legs and think for god’s sake but he couldn’t think too much without getting a migraine or something fairly similar.

This did not appear on Morgana’s descriptions when she rambled on the benefits of a stroll. And it wasn’t even midnight, more like, nine o’clock. He didn’t even get the part of the _midnight_ in the midnight stroll right.

Sighing but not quite admitting defeat yet, Arthur called for a taxi and gave a direction close to Gwen’s home. He couldn’t say what made him do it but he felt quite sure this was the only good thing he could be doing in the whole day. Apologize and pretend it never happened, something he was good at, at last. He got off ten minutes before reaching her street, thinking that walking the distance might help him find the necessary courage to pull this through. Or to let the cold air numb his face long enough so when Lance open the door, the hit wouldn’t be as painful as it was going to be. It was a tie in between reasons but Arthur thought they were both equally acceptable.

His feet sunk mildly on a thin layer of snow and his hands went instantly cold with the touch of the freezing breeze. Ten more minutes and his body would turn into a proper ice statue and then he would break with the slightest of touches and Lance would have to spend Christmas in prison for breaking him into a million cold pieces. Yes Arthur, he thought, that’s a soothing thought perfect for the occasion.

The houses he left passing to his side were all properly decorated with the usual and expected devices: cascades of white lights, singing Santa’s on the roofs and fake snow to cover all the places snow normally should not reach like the perfectly placed mountain over the mailbox. But the decorations did not speak to Arthur, not in the way they probably intended; they did not speak of joyous periods or Christmas bliss but more like, some ice façade that was only set to hide something else. He tried to not stare too much at the homes, meaningless on their purpose to him.

He could see the lights from Gwen’s home from where he was standing there. She had insisted that year -with Morgana’s full approbation and Gwaine’s undying enthusiasm- that Lance ought to endanger his life installing an animatronic version of Santa’s sleigh with all nine reindeer included moving around their heads on the roof. They had all celebrated once it had been set (and Lance had survived the idea of setting ten electrical devices on top of a slippery roof) and sent proper pictures to Arthur about it. It had been more than two weeks since the intrusion of the sleight and Arthur still hated it every part of it.

Then, for a moment, Arthur thought he had gone blind. Or at least, partially blinded.

There was a black spot in between homes or something very much less radiant than the others. He had to make a double take before trying to move forward. And then he had to stare again without moving at all.

It wasn’t that the house was fully empty of any decorations -there was a small plastic candle lighting the main door- but the main focus of the decorators had obviously been something else. They probably wanted for people to make that double take, to come to a full stop and see and search with their gazes for it. It was the loveliest decorated Christmas tree Arthur had ever seen before.

It wasn’t exceptionally large -of modest and righteous size actually- and the lights weren’t flaring at his eyes like soaring flames. There were streams of blue, yellow and a hint of red over the top but the position had been so tactically thought right in the middle of the main window for everybody to see it was only logical for people and passers to feel drawn to it. It wasn’t a tree that screamed with neon lights “Christmas’s here!” but more like, “We are happy” and it didn’t scream either. It was a soft whisper, an inviting one as well and Arthur felt envious to the core at the same time he felt warm inside.

This people were happy, he thought, and you only have happiness as a distant memory to comfort yourself.

Suddenly, Gwen’s home felt like a mile away.

“Arthur?”

Arthur jerked off violently surprised to hear any sound at all, closing his eyes quickly and letting one single tear fall from his cheek before turning around. If Cheekbones actually noticed the redness of his eyes, he didn’t mention it.

“Are you going to see Gwen?” he asked. Arthur smiled sadly when he remembered how badly at first he had wanted to slap the man’s cheekbones out of his face just to have the certainty he was real -because no one that odd could be a real human being- and he felt the same impulse once again -because no one that kind could actually exist-. The tone in his voice gave no indication of the scene Arthur had made the night before; it was such an unforgiving and bare emotion he really didn’t know what to do next.

“Come inside” he said, placing the bag with his groceries to one side and fishing for his keys on his pocket. “You must be freezing here”

Arthur saw Cheekbones properly dress for going outside with his burgundy scarf and ears safely tucked inside an oversize red hat. He looked more suitable for a midnight stroll than he did with his black jacket. Arthur’s clothes spoke of designers and price tags while Cheekbones’s told stories of time and emotion in comparison; as if somebody had actually gone to all the trouble to knit all the terrible scarves he stubbornly insisted on wearing every single day.

“I like your Christmas tree” Arthur whispered. The man smiled at him tenderly and held his hand to invite him, passing through the gate. “Wait” Arthur said stopping on his feet right before Cheekbones could open the door. “You don’t live here”

Cheekbones laughed briefly before hiding his face inside his scarf, as if he just remembered he wasn’t allowed to do so. Probably because he was still upset at him and you’re not suppose to laugh alongside those who stood you up and left you abandoned at dinners in the middle of the night.

It sounded like a very rational protocol but to see his smile hide away from Arthur’s reach felt painful nevertheless. “And here I thought you were going to help me steal this place”

“You _are_ a certify thief, you know?” The man’s eyebrow shoot high with this and Arthur could tell from beneath the scarf he was struggling to bite down a smile.

“Are you ever not going to be bitter about that?” he asked. Arthur’s face fell at this and Cheekbones went for his hand again with an repentant smile even when there was very little for him to be sorry for, if someone there had made an art of ruining things it was Arthur --the distinctive feeling he didn’t really deserve this man’s kindness was an even bigger blow than anything that had happened before over the day. “Get inside so we can see what we can steal to my mum”

There wasn’t really any other time for Arthur to protest at this, Cheekbones safely forcing him to step inside to the warm ambient of his own mother’s home -the entrance filled with the scent of biscuits and comfort food Arthur only knew from reading on magazines- and when he gave a final look to the plastic candle’s light right outside, he thought shyly that perhaps he had found the right lights he had been searching for in the night-sky before.

 


	12. O Holy Night

Arthur couldn’t remember spending a night on somebody else’s bed but there he was, waking up with his hair sticking out on every direction and dried drool around his lips, on Cheekbones’s small bed.

That was what happened when you stay over the night at the home of someone who doesn’t longer live there and your only choice besides the cold floor or a small couch is the childhood room of said person. If he had to ignore all the faults, the dragon’s sheets and the old posters watching him over as he fell asleep and the fact it wasn’t his usual pillow stuffed with fluffy feathers, Arthur couldn’t precisely say it had been a terrible night. Then again, his judgement might be clouded by the constant presence of somebody else.

The first thing that had happened when he got inside was to be greeted like he was a long lost relative or a close family friend by the sweetest woman he had ever met after Gwen. Hunith, Cheekbones’s mother, was guileless and appeared to be completely used to her son’s habit of picking up strange men from outside her home. Or maybe because Cheekbones introduced as his friend Arthur and gave a convulsed story on how his car had malfunctioned near their street and they had caught up waiting for the mechanic but help never arrived and he couldn’t just let him freeze to death outside so there he was now, and Cheekbones was walking him to his old room because they both insisted on him spending the night and how it wasn’t a trouble at all. Before Arthur could actually realized what had happened, he was wearing a pair of red and green slippers and was comfortably drinking a cup of hot chocolate inside a room that screamed _teenager angst_ through every corner. He would have laughed if he didn’t fear for the cocoa to slip by his nostrils. Then, he’d have to replace his shirt with something from Cheekbones’s old closet and only god knew what could be inside there.

That night his head was still pounding, trying to catch on the latest developments when Cheekbones had gone to his (well, technically it wasn’t Arthur’s room to claim) room silently and asked him if he was okay. Arthur nodded because he didn’t even know how he could begin to explain how very confusing things were for him at that point but he had the idea the other didn’t need a profound explanation on the subject. “Just so we are clear, my mum didn’t believe a word from my story”

Arthur chuckled trying to contain the liquid inside of him. The air seemed to tense down with this and Cheekbones walked inside, seating beside him on the edge of his old bed. “Sorry to get you into trouble” he apologized. Cheekbones stretched his muscles and went down his bed, glaring at his ceiling with tired eyes. He stared at the man’s jaw line and followed with his eyes the angular definitions his face had with those cheeks --the idea he shouldn’t be there without a proper talk and even less to be treated so kindly so easily was very high on his conscience. Not after everything that had happened between them.

“It’s okay” Cheekbones said lazily, “She understands”

“Does she?” Arthur asked setting to a side his empty cup and trying to find a comfortable position alongside his host before finally settling for the left corner of the bed, distant enough to not touch him or disturb his relaxed position. “Because I don’t”

Cheekbones looked at him for a brief second before turning his head back up. “What’s to be lost about?”

“You” he said, touching quickly one side of the other’s shoulders with his bare feet, “Being kind to me when I yelled at you and we fought and we haven’t discuss it. I think you are going to throw me to the snow any minute now”

“Damn, I was waiting for you to fall asleep before letting you freeze to death” Cheekbones said still without looking at him, although his shoulders seemed less stiff as he spoke. Had he actually been nervous before talking? Arthur questioned, how? He had always looked so at ease and in control of his social interactions, it seemed it was only natural for him to win everyone at his pocket with his disarming smiles and cheeky eyes. He even sang Christmas carols for a community he didn’t even belong to and brought medicines to people that weren’t his neighbours. Everything about him screamed control and relaxation at the same time --how could it be possible for him to not feel laid-back?

The room went terribly quiet and it wasn’t the habitual silence they had shared before. It was filled with tension like every other time Arthur was in a room with someone and didn’t know what to say next; he thought with sadness how not only the altercation of the night before had not only cost his only shot at actually enjoy a day over Christmas period but also, the easy banter he and Cheekbones built over the days.

He might never find the comfortable silence he had shared with the other ever again. It was surely that sensation that made his chest ached with a sting and not the fact of saying goodbye to him.

“I’m sorry” Arthur murmured once the silence became almost unbearable.

At last, Cheekbones got up from his position and settled somehow close enough for Arthur to smell his scent but sufficiently distant to not being touching each other. Now he knew what the phrase _so close yet so far_ actually meant.

“You” Cheekbones said, glaring at him with no trace of the kindness he had shown when he invited him over neither the expectation of seeing him saluting his mother and walking him over his room, “Are a supercilious bitter man who can’t know how to cease happiness even if it hit him right in the face. A massive prat with severe issues who can’t see how much his friends care for him”. He stopped for a moment to breathe deeply; he finally looked at him in the eyes and smiled sadly, “But I was wrong trying to ambush in the dinner. I should not have talked to _your_ friends behind your back and when you left I thought I’ll never see you again”

Arthur was left gasping for air once the other was done, his jaw probably hanging closer to the bed than his proper position. And the worst part of everything it was he never considered Cheekbones’ fault, being so used to making mistakes regarding how he behaved with others; yet also, by his thoroughly made description –someone who couldn’t _see how much his friends care for him_ -, he clearly didn’t deserve a stranger’s sympathy but Cheekbones wasn’t a stranger anymore.

Why did he feel every bad thing that Arthur had dealt with had been his own fault and no one else’s? Perhaps the dinner fall-out was a shared blame; he could see that now and how his anger was somehow justified –although leaving without properly talking about it had not been good either. He had just been too busy seeing the faults in everyone else’s care for him to actually realize the problem had only started with him.

“What would you do if I start behaving like a bitter prat again? Would you throw me outside?” he asked scared of the answer.

“It’s bloody Christmas you git. You don’t throw people out on Christmas”

“I didn’t know about that tradition”

“Yes, well” Cheekbones said biting his lower lip and looking at him pitifully. “I’m starting to realize you don’t know much about Christmas at all”

**~~~~~~~**

It had been a crash-course on Christmas and Arthur felt strange for not taking down notes about it.

It wasn’t as if Cheekbones had gone to the trouble of actually explaining him the origin of the celebration, the multiple cultural connotations behind it or the different traditions around the globe. More like, Arthur had heard for three hours how Christmas was celebrated in the Emrys’s household... and felt completely inadequate for it. What the family did, their traditions and quirks, sounded extremely silly to Arthur which only made the feeling of wanting to participate increase even more with every new anecdote.

Turns out, Cheekbones had even worse luck than him over this time of the year.

Sure, Arthur had had his fair share of unfortunate events but it was very hard to beat a father who told his family he was going to find Santa for the presents and never returned. That had to leave a bigger scar than the time Arthur’s father had tried to give him a puppy when he had been six and forgot to make proper air-holes to the box.

Apparently, after the Christmas his father had bailed on him, Cheekbones had gone to the resolution he was going to make every December extra special for him and his mother --the inhuman passion the man showed talking about it was discomforting to say the least: there he stood, someone who ought to hate the holiday and be completely excused for it, defending with all his heart the anniversary of the day his father had left him forever.

He asked him, where he got his strength to view so lightly life on this time of year and Cheekbones’ answer had been as simple as the day itself: he didn’t. There was nothing light on going through every December remembering his father walking away but in his head, he could only contemplate two possibilities: either live bitterly letting someone else’s misdeed ruin his favourite holiday or be brave about it and enjoy it feeling thankful for all that he still had.

And there it was Arthur, complaining like a tired old man about the time he had gotten a bad paper cut.

Now there were even less reasons for Cheekbones to consider Arthur on a fair light, he probably sounded like a big child complaining about the faintest of misadventures when there was another person in the room with a sadder story than him.

“Did you ever forgive your father for it?” Arthur had asked when the clock beside them claimed it was only two in the morning.

“Never blame him for it” Cheekbones said smiling tenderly at him, “I’m sure he had his reasons for it”

“Christ!” Arthur exclaimed exasperated. “Are you looking to become a saint or what? Isn’t a single bone of malice inside of you to be angry at him?”

The other chuckled and relaxed beside him, now the two of them comfortable lying side to side staring at the ceiling and the young Leonardo di Caprio’s poster over his bed. “I do get angry although Saint Merlin does have a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Then what is it? Why can’t you just be mad at him?”

Cheekbones smiled, this time sadly than before and moved forward Arthur’s side. His breathing was comfortable and smooth and Arthur felt like he could stay there forever. “Because I realized it was a massive waste of time” he said slowly, tapping every word as he spoke.

Arthur groaned frustrated. “How is that for an advice?”

“What are you expecting from me? A guide about how to go through life being happy al the time? Because there’s no such thing”

“But I want to know how you do it!” Arthur demanded. Young Leo’s eyes seemed as useless as they were dreamy. “How can you let pass all the bad stuffs?”

“But see Arthur, that’s the thing!” Cheekbones said visibly excited, propelling himself with his arm to see Arthur more properly. “Is not that you let the bad stuff happen unnoticed, is that you decided not let them command how you view life. There’s always going to be bad things happening at you but it’s your decision to just focus on them and forget all that is good too”

Arthur felt extremely tired at this decisive true on his perception on life and yawned as a unique response. Cheekbones smiled visibly tired as well, if it was for a long day at work or Arthur’s stubbornness it was impossible to say, and got up from his bed. “I’m going to let you sleep now; I think I’ve might overdue your brain with my ranting”

“When did you become so wise?” Arthur asked filled with sleep and almost not noticing the gangly figure that walked to the door slowly and wary of not making any loud noises. He only heard a chuckle in response before the door was properly closed and the room was filled with a different kind of darkness. Arthur slept without waking up once and without dreaming, good or bad dreams alike.

**~~~~~~**

He would have been lying if he said a part of him actually expected to be served breakfast in bed but he quickly shrugged any trace of disappointment in him and made his way to what he thought was the kitchen. He opened the door and congratulated himself at his success --it had only taken him one closet and the guest bathroom but he got there in time to see a perfect and almost idyllic picture of family bliss. “Morning Arthur” Hunith said, pointing at him an empty chair near the stack of food she had already prepared. Arthur walked diligently to the place -his chair, he thought for a second- and searched through the small kitchen for any sign of Cheekbones. “Sorry, Merlin had to leave” she said, sensing his curiosity and smiling at him while she got out the fourth pancake in a row, “He said you shouldn’t leave without eating proper food so there you go” she told him, placing a plate filled to the top with freshly made pancakes watering Arthur’s mouth in the process. It had been a very very long time since he had seen a typical breakfast food.

“I’m sorry to be such a burden” Arthur said in between bites. Hunith had sat next to him and drank quietly her cup of tea, stealing quick glances at him while he ate the contents of his plate.

“Nonsense darling” she told him, sweetly, “Any friend of my son in trouble can’t be such a thing. It’s my pleasure to help”

“I’m not into any sort of trouble” Arthur quickly clarified. Who knew what story Cheekbones might had told his mother to explain why he was there passing it as the true since their tale of the broken-car had obviously not worked? Perhaps he had told him he was running from the law or he had killed a man and was escaping his conviction. Hunith seemed like a nice enough sort of woman but she didn’t strike him like the type of person to harbour a fugitive.

Hunith laughed and it was kind of endearing how similar mother and son sounded. “I didn’t mean to startle you dear” she said, patting him in the arm, “But you did seem very lost last night to me, although I’m sure you would not put my son into any trouble, right?”

“Of course not!” Arthur almost seemed to shout, sending small pieces of his food into thin air. “I couldn’t dare” he repeated calmer and without letting any traces of food leave his body at the same time.

“I know that dear” she said and winked at him.

It was starting to get slightly disturbing just how similar every gesture was between them. Arthur wished he didn’t look so disturbed by this but he was fairly certain his face was bright red even though he didn’t know what for. Perhaps there had been more behind Hunith’s knowingly wink, yet it wasn’t as if Arthur was just going to ask her about it.

A startling noise started to resonate through the small walls, making Arthur jumped on his chair taken by surprise the sound of his mobile. “Here it is” Hunith said before tossing it to Arthur’s hand --thank goodness, he thought, good reflexes was once of his good qualities because he didn’t think he had it in him to surpass the agony of embarrassment from dropping his cell phone to the ground in that moment. “Merlin left it charging for you last night”

“Thank you” he mumbled before looking at the caller’s ID. Percy’s name shone on the screen and he held back a small groan; it was a perfect Sunday morning which meant if he was being called by his office, something bad was happening. He excused himself from the kitchen with an apologetic smile before answering in the equally small living room. “What is it?” he asked, fearing the worst.

“Sorry to bother you Arthur but I got a call from the night watchman last night saying there were something wrong with the computer at your office”

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked dreading a fire or even worst, a virus.

“Mainly, it’s gone”

“What?” he asked confused. How could it be gone? Computes didn’t grow legs from one day to another and decided to leave.

“There was a theft and your office seemed to be thoroughly ransacked” Percy explained sounding as tired as Arthur felt.

Of course, Sundays weren’t just Arthur’s day off, it was everybody’s day off, he couldn’t expect for anybody to be happy with the news.

“Right” he mumbled, “I’m on my way”. He hang up and walked back to the kitchen, saying his goodbye to Hunith, hopefully not coming across as the type of people who only stayed for the food and then ran away from it.

“Arthur!” Hunith shouted for him as he was about to leave through the door.

He would have hit himself in the face for his mishap. “And do tell Cheek.. Er, Merlin, tell him I say thank you”

“I’m sure he knows it” the woman said, “But you are still wearing his favourite slippers”

Arthur looked down, the indulgent smiles from the elves on each of his feet and went back inside quickly, feeling his face burn as he listened to Hunith’s very recognizable laugh behind him.

 


	13. Jingle Bell Rock

The bad thing about someone stealing your office is that you lose all your things, the good thing is that you get a day off and the second bad thing is that when you do get a day off so close to Christmas, people instantly assume that free time will do to go and shop for some last minutes presents.

Arthur had even smart, he had bought all that was necessary in June when the prices were so low he felt like he was actually stealing to the stores but not a lot of people shared his view of timing regarding their Christmas shopping. Particularly not Gwaine.

When the man had found out, most likely thanks to Morgana, he wasn’t doing anything that Monday since the office was practically devoted to install all the servers and new security cameras, Arthur was bound to help him for the good friend he was (in theory). Besides apparently, the thirty minutes he had stayed over his flat to look after him a week ago made Arthur “owned” him a big favour or something like that.

“I’m only doing this for half an hour” Arthur said as they drove to the mall, bitterly crossing his arms over his chest like a child standing his foot to the ground after he has made a very none-consequential decision that is going to be quickly ignored.

“Right” Gwaine said not impressed by his strong stand like he had suspected.

Arthur sighed already tired for everything that was to come to him. “How many presents do you need to buy?”

Gwaine made a funny looking face, wrinkling his nose smugly as he parked the car in an empty spot. There were massive floods of people walking around the place, both leaving with arms filled with bags or arriving with expressions of anxiety drawn on their faces. Embrace the Christmas spirit Arthur, he told himself thinking what Cheekbones would make of this situation. “All of them?” Gwaine said tentatively.

“It’s the 23rd!” Arthur chastised him.

Gwaine gave him his usual smile, the one that both said “Oops, my fault!” and “Don’t worry about it, I have this under control!”

“Isn’t this more fun?” he asked as they walked inside and were viciously assaulted by a crowd of people from every possible flank. “More intense”

“Yes, I feel overwhelmed with joy” Arthur said with a mute expression.

“Look up princess! See this as a quest! It’ll be fun” Gwaine said poking him in the ribs as they tried to see whatever was on display on the few stores that were not filled with customers in equal or more rush than them.

“I’m pretty sure going to defeat a dragon is safer than entering this hell house” Arthur said avoiding the contact with a man fighting over his phone and carrying about six different shoe boxes.

“You are no fun Pendragon”

“Great! Can I leave then?”

“Like I told my last girlfriend” Gwaine said glaring his biggest grin till date to Arthur not listening to his complains, “We won’t be over until we can no longer use our legs and we are fully satisfied”

Arthur winced with what was about to come, already seeing the endless lines at the cashier and the extenuating walks around the four floors.

Life would always be a better thing if he didn’t have so many friends.

**~~~~~~**

The phone rang in his pocket when Gwaine was searching for what he called the perfect salt shaker for Gwen to match the pepper dispenser he had bought to Lance. Arthur wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not but he wasn’t thinking on saying something about it, the sooner he found the thing, the sooner they’ll be out of there. He answered the phone without looking who was calling; he felt even a prank call might soothe him down for this “quest”.

“Hello” he said tiredly.

“Hi”.

Cheekbones’s perky voice was a nice contrast to Arthur’s dead tone. “You sound terrible, is everything alright?” he asked worried, making Arthur blush and hide his face from Gwaine’s curious raised brow. He found a perfect spot behind a display of wine bottles and pretended he was actually staring at the simple brands in front of him.

“I’m fine” he said, “I’m just enduring my own bad karma right now”

“That sounds fun” Cheekbones said unimpressed with his pain. “What are you doing?”

“Helping Gwaine with his last minute gift shopping”

“That can’t be so bad” he said.

“Except that with Gwaine last minute means everybody and he has too many friends” Arthur pouted miserably. Cheekbones laughed at the other side of the line and Arthur pouted even more, earning a worrisome look from an old woman who was looking at the wine near him. “You mock my pain”

“Your pain is very funny”

“Is that why you called?” Arthur hope for a negative answer, he felt there were still too many things left unsaid between them and there weren’t enough hours in the night to cover them. “To mock my misery?”

“I wanted to know how you were today. You kind of left hurriedly yesterday and I couldn’t catch you. I thought perhaps we scared you” Cheekbones said laughing nervously.

It was adorable, Arthur decided, how easily could the man go from being in total control of the conversation and in the next, being a bundle of nerves because of what silly idea he might have about Arthur.

“Someone stole my office yesterday”

“Oh”

“And we have the day off today so I’m trapped here at the shopping centre with little no hope to leave alive”

“That’s reassuring I suppose” Cheekbone said, his voice calmer than before.

“I know I have issues, like you said, but I won’t get scare from some little homely environment so easily”

“About that” Cheekbones sighed, “I feel I might have been too harsh on you”

“Don’t apologize” Arthur said smiling awkwardly to the store clerk who was watching Arthur walk around aimlessly around the bottles, “I needed to hear it”

“Good, because I still think you are a prat”

“Noted” Arthur laughed.

“Princess!” Gwaine shouted from the other side of the store holding in his hand a small porcelain cylinder Arthur really hoped it was the salt shaker and not something weirder. “Found the right salt shaker!”

A group of people turned around from Gwaine to Arthur, some of them looking confused and others rightfully scared. “I see more pressing matters await you” Cheekbones said elegantly. “I’ll call you later... if that’s okay with you?”

“Please do it or else, I’ll bore to death here”

Cheekbones chuckled and made Arthur blush again. “Bye Arthur Arthur”

Arthur hung up and walked to where his friend was awaiting his judgement on his purchase.

He sighed heavily when he noted the salt shaker came with an entire set of other useless porcelain objects. “I’ll give you the napkin holder” Gwaine told him proudly when they left the store. If that meant they’ll be over sooner, Arthur was more than willing to accept it with a wide smile.

**~~~~~~**

“Help, I’m in the sixth shoe store I’ve been all day”

“I’m not going to save you from Christmas shopping Arthur, rejoice in the experience” Cheekbones admonished as they walked, hand in phone, around the gravity-defying-pyramids of shoe boxes showcased all around the store. Gwaine had been adamant to insist Gwen’s brother who only came around over the holidays needed a new pair of tennis shoes. The fact they were in fact glancing around the high heels section was confusing to say the least.

“Gwaine” he had muttered slightly frighten when the store clerk showed them a pair of black killer stilettos “Gwaine” he had pleaded again when his friend had requested for something more dramatic.

Cheekbones obviously laughed when Arthur told him this and the sound of his laughter only help decreased his fear about twenty percent; his stomach was still clenching to a good fifty percent of confusion and the other twenty were a purer mess. “Maybe they’re Elyan’s style” he said as if that was meant to comfort him.

“Have you two spoken today and made the hellish deal to keep me here forever?” he asked looking at the price tag of a deadly pair of golden shoes with a platforms clearly made to destroy small villages.

“You got me. I stole your computer and forced this day off upon you. I know, I’m a monster”

“Yes, you are a very scary creature” he said hiding his childish smile behind a construction of shoe boxes that were meant to look like a Christmas tree but looked more like a volcano of green rectangles. Arthur shook his head at the thought of the bloody thing irrupting with rivers of hot leather and walked closer to the exit in case Gwaine made another scene on how uncomfortable the shoes were to walk in an alley in the middle night. Unfortunately his friend swore he was very funny when he was only embarrassing.

“I happen to be, yes” Cheekbone said filled with confidence. “I have a deadly grip and killer thighs”

Arthur stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, uncertain to what do next with this new information and frankly, a little bit scare on where to label it. Should it go to the “ _Things I wasn’t meant to know_ ” very voluminous file or in the “ _This is valuable information for my future_ ” small folder? He blinked multiple times and decided against his better judgement to put it (as a temporary countermeasure) in the “ _Let me go back at this at night_ ” file, filled with shameful thoughts and pictures that’d make people blush.

“My co worker just glanced at me concerned, thinking I gave too much information about myself” Cheekbones said when Arthur didn’t speak, still too busy thinking about the new data entered to his hard drive. “How can I explain her it’s just Arthur and we are way pass the awkward talks?”

“I wasn’t aware of that” Arthur said trying to cool down his face with his equally warm hand. Gwaine glared at him shaking a pair of shoes with actual silver spikes pretty much everywhere like he had just discovered El Dorado or a bargain on cheap whiskey.

“C’mon Arthur Arthur. We’ve met for what? Almost two weeks now, that’s longer than any ordinary marriages today... And we’ve been on a date even”

He gasped for air, feeling the sudden hit right underneath his thoracic cavity. They were there now? He asked himself with a punching stomach ache; after all what were three days to let things cool down between them? He had even slept on his bed (alone) and met his mother (who probably still thought he was an insane homeless man).

Cheekbones was actually right, they were as committed as any ordinary marriages by now.

“Taken, it was a very very bad date but the intention was what counted, right?” Cheekbones asked, laughing nervously at his ear. Arthur laughed too, as nervous and frantic as a man who’s carrying a bomb about to explode around a nursing home.

“I think Gwaine finally decided on a pair of shoes” he said once the air was half way into operational system inside his lungs, “Gotta go”

Arthur hung up and walked out of the store, thinking the air scented with masses of sweaty and stressed people might soothe him somehow.

**~~~~~~**

He didn’t think too much about it but walking a crowded mall alongside a more Santa version of his friend Gwaine who in the end left carrying about twelve bags from all different sizes, made any man think new things. It had caught his eyes so briefly, at first Arthur thought it was more like an apparition than an actual object but when he did the mandatory double take, he smiled without explanation at it.

He probably scared a small girl who was standing nearby and saw his reflection in the case window but there wasn’t truly any perfect occasion for him so seize.

Arthur smiled shyly at the cashier when paying for it and tried his best to be as stealth as possible when he returned to Gwaine’s side who had been conveniently more concern with devouring an ice cream like an actual five year old than noticing Arthur’s incredible suspicious demeanour.

He probably had noticed him, the small bag tugged safely under his arm was a sufficient telltale sign, but he didn’t mention it and just for it, Arthur let him eat _his_ ice cream as well.

When Arthur got home, his feet completely knackered by all the walking and walking, he contemplated the package in his hands with the clear smile of a very fool and ruined man. He didn’t remember the last time he had actually bought a Christmas present on Christmas. Is this what Cheekbones had told him the night before? The incredibly gut-wrenching sensation of anticipation that comes with knowing you have something especial just for one person. He smiled even more foolishly and wider and placed the bag carefully next to his bed.

Arthur went to his bed, his mouth even more soared than his feet from doing all the smiling it wasn’t used to. Perhaps he ought to do more of that to diminish the possibility of pain in the future.

 


	14. Silent Night

As it was already too cheesy to be, offices threw the mandatory Christmas’s parties every December 24th so people could pass out drunk to their bones and make unspeakable deeds in the copy room at the back. It was, apparently, Morgana’s favourite tradition and Arthur’s least but to actually have a scale to claim there was a least favourite one would imply there was _a_ favourite one...

For Arthur, his personal scale of traditions was more like a pit of darkness and bitterness than an actual ladder. Right in the bottom one could see “ _family dinner_ s” resting for all eternity alongside “ _Christmas’s office parties_ ” and if you squinted your eyes you could wave at the “ _building snowmen in the park_ ” cornered in the background. Arthur had always been very proud of his bottomless pit of killer joy.

So what had changed this year that he was at the bathroom of his office changing his work tie for his other work tie, thinking he was finally succumbing to the pressure of the world to look a little bit more festive? To the pain of his stubborn soul, it had ten letters and wore ridiculous scarves all the time. Suddenly it felt far more comfortable to rest his head over the bathroom mirror than leave the place and face the joy of the world.

This wasn’t his tradition at all, not his way of doing things and he was incredibly nervous for it. Like a child on the morning of Christmas day waiting to open all of his presents...

Arthur violently opened his eyes, was peer pressure really such a powerful thing he was now doomed forever to keep on making Christmas analogies? Was there a cure? And if it was, was it easy to find?

“You look adorable” Morgana said, appearing from behind him with an upsetting smirk drawn on her face. “Changed from navy blue to cerulean. Very avant garde”

“What are you doing here?” he asked ignoring her amused face and trying to focus on the reflection of his face in the mirror instead of her sparkling eyes and green cocktail dress. “Shouldn’t you be feeding on young children on this special night?”

Morgana threw her head back as if she was about to laugh very loudly but no sound came, instead she glanced back at him with a terribly serious face. “I have bad news”

“Santa is not real?” he asked, fighting his way through the perfect place to show his hair like he didn’t care but he tried very hard to not care too much --it was a sensitive line to walk through to say the least.

“Goodness no” she said walking closer to him, examining his whole simple attire with pity in her green eyes. Suddenly, a bad feeling struck Arthur with whatever news she had brought to him; he had never been a strong advocate of the whole “kill the messenger” logic but he could feel with Morgana, he could make an understandable exception. “Santa, unlike your wits, is very much real” she smiled briefly before turning her face into the I-mean-business-look from before. “Have you called Merlin?”

“I haven’t talked to him since... -when he mentioned our failed at lunch date and I chickened out- yesterday” Arthur lied, using his most neutral and calm tone. “But he said he was coming because you invited him”.

Arthur very wisely refrained himself from explaining how hard his heart had jumped at listening to this news. But it had, very violently and without restrain. Only Cheekbones’s own eagerness at telling him this through the phone -Arthur could easily make for the excitement on the tone of his voice- could match his nervousness.

“Well I was sensible enough to call and confirm if he was still coming here, to have a head count on how much beer and wine and food and beer again to buy...” Morgana spoke slowly, placing her hand over Arthur’s tailored shoulder cleaning it from invisible lint. “He said he can’t make it”

In future times, acting classes will be made on the basis of Arthur’s expression the second he heard the news. If a camera would have been close to his face, then the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Science would have personally given him every single award -including best sound mixing even- and created some more just for the incredibly convincing power of his features. Because when his body got hit with a stinging blow of disappointment, his face remained unmoved by the news.

Arthur shrugged off as best as he could, properly fixed his tie and sauntered away from the bathroom back at his office, claiming it wasn’t a terrible lost for the party. Only when he heard the click of the door closing right behind him, he allowed himself the benefit of breathing through his nose.

What was he doing there? At a party on Christmas? He felt ridiculous, catching his reflection through the window staring at his suit and perfectly arranged hair. It was just a party and a decline, Arthur reminded himself trying to find a comfortable pace to breathe and walk around his office. Why was he feeling this? Something so unusual like actual care but he couldn’t be put to blame for it, for the expectations built up throughout the day and the silly thought of this being the night to make up for their failed first date. Clearly the other didn’t see it like that and now Arthur had been stood up without the actual commitment of coming in the first place. How truly awfully sad was that?

“Arthur, hurry, Santa is coming!” Elena claimed for him knocking on his door. His fingers itched with the possibility of removing his tie and walking away from the entire clamour but he didn’t want to make a scene on Christmas. Although, now that he thought about it, he didn’t particularly want to see Santa either.

Without feeling like coming out neither, staying inside like a sulking child making a tantrum Arthur was with the tailored Tom Ford between the sword and the wall.

In the end, the only viable solution was staying... but only for thirty minutes.

**~~~~~~**

God bless Morgana and her bad calculations. After only twenty minutes, the alcohol was flooding freely from passing hands -fingers given each other glasses filled to the top with champagne, wine and other variations of pink and colourful drinks- and before Arthur could actually try to finish his first aperitif, everyone was ignoring the laws of decorum or what a professional environment meant. Elena was basically with her face plastered over Percy’s broad chest and Morgana giggled like a small girl seating next to Morgause who even drunken look devastatingly in control of herself. Percy’s blushed cheeks and nose were the only indication he had been at least somewhere near alcohol but Arthur assumed it took minimum one entire French village to make the giant go numb. If he stayed long enough, he might as well drink the entire south of France with all its vineyards included.

It was also slightly disturbing the sight of whoever Morgana had hired to play Santa snogging almost viciously at Frederick from accounting. Thank god the office wasn’t too keen on people bringing their children at this event; that was a very expensive year in therapy right in the corner behind the photocopier.

Arthur thanked his sister silently when he left through the main door, completely unnoticed. It took almost twenty minutes for any taxi to stop at him, the streets were starting to fill themselves with drunk people and families searching like fools for any signs of Santa walking around town (as long as they stayed away from the Santa he had left behind, they were going to be okay for the night) and when he finally reached his home, he walked tiredly back to his empty flat. The tie had been thoroughly discarded by then and his feet were almost out of the fancy shoes before he could even open the door.

He glanced at his wristwatch when he pretty much fell on his arse over the sofa. It was almost eight thirty. God, his co workers had an actual problem to be so utterly drunk that early. Taking out his cell phone, Arthur pouted sadly looking at the emptiness of missed calls. Perhaps Cheekbones had bailed on him for far better reasons but that did not mean he had been right before. Christmas was about being around those who care for you and being loved in return.

Fucking hell, Arthur muttered, getting up and looking for his shoes again.

He was about to leave through the door when he went back to his room impulsively and took the bag from the day before with him. He had not brought it to the office because he had had other plans but there was nothing to lose now.

**~~~~~~**

There were no taxies on the street when Arthur jolted outside. He walked the first half of the way, glancing through his shoulder constantly trying to find a hint of a vehicle kind enough to take him to his destination. It was starting to snow, the sky seemed pitch black and he was freezing. He was only wearing his coat and was tugging like a lifeline to the package over his chest, his teeth clattering away with the frozen air.

He must have walked some good fifteen to twenty minutes, still twenty other minutes away when a clank startled him from behind. Arthur thought initially a taxi driver had seen him and took pity of him -the only time pity was of any use- but he saw a red car parking along side and a window descending slowly. “Are you okay there?” the sweet voice of a woman asked from inside.

Maybe it was the winter air or the adrenaline rush that had forced him to leave his flat so fast, but Arthur spoke with honesty about how he felt for the first time on that day. “Not really” he said, trying to cover his face with his thin scarf. He peeked further inside the car, a pretty looking woman with dark hair and big blue eyes saw him curiously. Arthur tried to smile, sensing it might dissolve a bit of his fear with it but she didn’t buy it.

She smiled softly and opened the door for him. “Where are you going?” she asked.

Arthur seemed lost at words. For all that she knew, he could be a mental serial killer and for all that he knew, she could be the psychopath. She smiled again sympathetically as if she understood what Arthur thought in that second. “I’m not a murderer” she said, “But you seem lost. I’m driving to Carlson Road, are you going anywhere near there?”

Fate has it ways, he thought, even for the always vengeful Christmas’s gods a good deed could come by and be the exact coincidence he was looking for. “I’m going there myself”

She gave him an open wide smile and opened the door for him. “Are you sure?” Arthur asked scared she might change her mind or take out a knife. The girl simply nodded and there was something so genuine on it -and something so similar in her honesty- that Arthur thought: _fuck it_ , if there was a time to make a gigantic leap of faith it had to be Christmas.

He knew Cheekbones would have agreed with him.

“I think it’s safe to say” the girl talked when they parted ways from there, “Neither of us can’t say if the other is a serial killer, right?” she said laughing nervously. Arthur laughed as well trying to ease down the tension and discovered very surprised, it actually worked.

Who knew, right?

“I mean, you are not right?”

He shook his head still laughing and the girl sighed gratefully. “Dodged that bullet, uh?” she told him, looking at his side amused. Arthur was still a little but baffled at the strange turn of events, words were still slightly hesitant to form themselves in his mouth but he thought if he could just scrap on tiny bit of the girl’s easygoingness then all of his problems would be solve. Okay, he might be overreacting with that but he decided it was the adrenaline rush: the rush made him get inside a car with a total stranger, the rush made him to trust on the notion of some ill-fated sense that the universe offers kindness from once in a while, the rush would probably help him arrive there in one piece.

“So who are you going to see at Carlson?” she asked. The city sky was disappearing as they went by, the stars intensified they gleam and Arthur heard the shy rumour of a song playing on the radio he had failed to notice before. “Oh?” she looked surprised when Arthur saw the radio, like she had forgotten as well the music was playing. “Sorry” she said, smiling and going to turn it off.

“No, please” he asked her, stopping her hand softly. She looked at him as if she just understood something for a brief second before turning her face back into her usual sweetness. They hummed alone to the tune --Silent Night had always been his favourite even long past his declared hatred from Christmas, before Arthur started to recognise the houses on the sides.

“Where do I leave you?” she asked waking him from his thoughts of Christmas’s lights and warm dinners.

“Right here is fine” he said.

“Whoever this is must be quite special for you to leave in the middle of the night on a blizzard” she said parking on a side of the empty road.

Arthur smiled at her before getting out. “It’s my family” he said as if that explained everything. She smiled for a last time, understanding every piece of it.

**~~~~~~**

“Arthur!”

“Happy Christmas Guinevere” he said, nose probably red from the cold and arms attached to its sides to keep some heat on his body.

Gwen seemed ready to burst into tears but fortunately she had the better insight to let Arthur in before hugging him fiercely. A part of him had actually been dubious whether she would invite him inside but now, inside her warm embrace he realized there was nothing to be uncertain about. Christmas does that to you.

“Arthur” Lance said professionally doing his best to let the steam go away from Gwen who was trying to dry a tear over the side, “So glad you could be here”

“Are my eyes deceiving me or this is a true Christmas’s miracle?” Arthur tried to say something very witty but sooner than expected he was trapped under Gwaine’s strong grip. “So glad you could be here princess” his friend whispered at his ear.

“God” Gwen said waving her hands eagerly around them, “Let Arthur breathe please” she said with a smile than enhanced her crystal eyes.

“What’s that?” Lance asked him pointing at the wrapped package he was still holding with a dead grip on his hand. Arthur almost forgot about it, maybe because his hand had been too numb from the cold or perhaps because he didn’t feel like letting it go.

“Jeez Pendragon, only one present? Who knew you could be so tight?” Gwaine said seating down the couch drinking from a glass of wine.

“Gwaine!” both Gwen and Lance chastised him for it. Arthur stared dumbfounded at the package; he could feel the penetrating gazes from their friends around them but he was only thinking on what the present had meant just hours before. It had meant the promise of a hope.

He wasn’t so certain what it was now.

“God Arthur, don’t be so thick!” Gwaine told him, jolting from his place in the living and holding his shoulders tightly. “Go!”

He blinked furiously a couple of times, looking between the present and Gwaine’s amused face. He went to find Gwen and Lance looking at him equally amused by his obvious confusion --how could they know so well what was he thinking? He thought.

Because they are family Arthur, the usual nagging voice advice him from the depths of his adrenaline induced rush.

He looked one final time at the three of them and hugged each one before leaving again through the door. Arthur ran all the way till the house of the solitary Christmas tree appeared in front of him. It looked exactly like he remembered it but it still took him some work to make the walk from where he stood to where he was desperate to reach.

Arthur finally went for it, thinking for a second time in less than an hour “ _Fuck it, it’s Christmas_ ”. He knocked on the door and waited with his heart climbing through his throat for an answer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the thrilling conclusion on Boxing Day. Happy Christmas!


	15. White Christmas

Only very few people possessed the natural gift of knowing how to exchange presents on a Christmas morning without actually celebrating Christmas. Probably only Arthur and a handful of other people more deranged than him but with a lesser sense of propriety to acknowledge it. Arthur sometimes actually fantasized with the idea of meeting the interesting bunch and see if they actually had something in common but it was more likely they were bat-shit crazy before sharing his taste for expensive wines. Like he said, it was a rare gift indeed.

But gift exchanging becomes a hundred percent even trickier when you wake one Christmas morning on a full house realizing you brought in fact just one present. Because in the moment you were leaving, you were only thinking about one person... and not said person’s family, friends and other miscellaneous guests.

Turns out, the Emrys’ household housed a very large crowd on Christmas’s eve. Yet the face that opened the door for him the night before had been surprisingly familiar.

“Hello” the woman said, clearly surprised by the reunion -but not as surprised as Arthur probably looked because he had the advantage of arriving after a frantic run across the street and with mad eyes from fear. Whatever look of shock she could offer, he was sure he could top it in a heartbeat.

“Is...” Arthur started to mumble, still short of breathe and full cerebral capacity. A lobe of his brain might have died minutes before and his body was still trying to work on full capacity unaware of the decease portion inside his skull. “Is Che--, Merlin here?”

The woman’s face fell when Arthur finally managed to speak up. “He just left” she said filled with sympathy. The sound of happy Christmas music blasting in the background and Arthur’s awkward stand there while people celebrated everywhere he looked only helped to increase the level of shame and embarrassment he was feeling. His feet made the instinctive retrieve back to where they came from when a tender grip stopped him in his place. “You can always stay here and wait for him” she offered.

“Is he coming back soon?” Arthur asked with a gleam of shy hope setting inside his face.

The woman made another uncomfortable look and explained how Cheekbones had left about ten minutes before Arthur got there, not stating where he was going or when he was planning on return. Arthur’s chest only ached more when she told him how some relatives had whistled and joked about him meeting a hot date on Christmas’s eve. She explained with all the innocence in the world -because she didn’t know who Arthur was or what the other meant for him- how badly the other’s cheeks had gone bright red.

In that moment, Arthur waged his options: a) staying there and spend Christmas surrounded by strangers while he was more than certain that Cheekbones -the man that was supposed to be _his_ magical Christmas’s date- had more than a good time with somebody else or b) leave shamelessly without so much of an explanation to never return to that street and change his face with surgery so the kind woman might not ever recognise him again in the streets.

He smiled pathetically and went inside the home that felt so foreign to him now that Cheekbones was gone. Arthur gave one last quick glance at the lights over Gwen’s house before the door closed. Spending Christmas with strangers after being thoroughly embarrassed and stood up by someone else filled easily the top 5 spot on his list of bad Christmases.

It never occurred Arthur to ask how she knew Cheekbones -or Hunith for all that mattered- being too busy hoarding a chair in a corner and nodding politely at the drunk and festive people who noticed his stiff presence. And then, to his increasing misfortune, his phone rang inside his pocket. Either Gwen wanting to know all the soapy and cheesy details or Gwaine wanting to know all the dirty ones, or even Lance wanting to know how he was period (God, he thought for a second, how did those three ever became best friends?). He answered without looking, smiling at an old lady who seemed to slowly descend into a comatose state near the fire place.

“I really don’t feel like talking right now”

“Shame because I’m freezing here, can you open please?”

“Cheekbon... I mean, Merlin?”

The other end of the line laughed like Arthur only knew one person could do. “Where are you?” he asked, searching the room through all the faces that didn’t mean anything to him at all. He had to make a double pause to realize just how stupid it would be to look for somebody somewhere he already knew wasn’t there. Arthur got up and walked to the window, opening a peak of the closed curtains and looking for a gangly figure mingling over the nocturnal sky. The streets were empty and all that Arthur distinguished in the darkness were a couple of cars parked with layers of snow over them. “Why are you freezing?”

“’Cause I’m outside your house you dollop head and it’s winter so open up now!” Cheekbones demanded so earnestly Arthur didn’t even get the opportunity to question the other’s ability to invent random words to insult him.

“I’m not there” Arthur spoke softly.

“But...” Cheekbones said, sounding as confused as Arthur felt. “I called Morgana and she said you left the party early... Unless she was covering for you because you left with a hot date and now I’m embarrassing myself here”

Arthur gasped for air, a rush of relief filling his lungs. “No” he said feeling a weight being lifted from his shoulders. “I mean, yes I did leave but I didn’t stay for too long”

“Because you left for a hot date?” Cheekbones rapidly asked.

“Because I’m at your house you idiot!” Arthur exclaimed smiling like an idiot himself. Well, at least, with his shout the old lady seemed to wake up and remembered breathing again so he had done a good deed on Christmas after all.

“Well now, this feels stupid” Cheekbones said before hanging up, leaving Arthur hanging from a thread of panic and excitement in his living room simultaneously.

**~~~~~~**

The sound of the bike arriving outside the house was music to Arthur’s ears. A pair of disapproving eyes glared at him when he got up quickly, hopping on his eager feet towards the door but when the one person you have been waiting for over the last days comes back to your life and arrives at your doorstep -taken, his mother’s doorstep- would you really worry too much about making a scene or not?

Arthur didn’t think so.

He opened the door to be greeted by the sight of Cheekbones, still wearing his helmet (that made his face looked adorably surrounded by a black frame that enhanced his pale features) and smiling back at him as usual. From all the things that could have been said that moment, all the things Arthur had been thinking about over and over while he waited surrounded by strange relatives who were getting progressively drunker as the minutes went by... in the end, nothing came to Arthur’s mouth and he was left standing there like a moron while Cheekbones got inside and took him by the arm so he wouldn’t stood there awkwardly without doing anything and scaring his family even longer.

“Merlin!” a strong voice resonated from behind Arthur. They both turned around at the same time and a man, about their same age was standing in the hallway with his arms spread looking at them with a gigantic smile on his face. “We thought we lost you, what happened to your hot date?”

Cheekbones blushed with the same intensity Arthur knew he blushed as well. There was a quick exchange of apologetic looks before they took a step away from the other and the host went to greet the loud stranger who was looking at Arthur confused. He couldn’t blame him, Arthur was a strange bug ruining his perfect Christmas’s dinner but no matter how many weird glances he might get, he wasn’t going to leave so easily. Unless the throw him out in which case, he had no problem waiting outside because he knew that Cheekbones would come for him and then, nothing else would mattered.

Arthur saw Cheekbones whispered something quickly to the other man’s ear. The stranger looked at him, at first frowning but then knowingly. Arthur didn’t know what Cheekbones might have shared with that person, he only knew he was feeling significantly smaller while being examined by his green eyes. He raised his chin, because that’s what men who are confident do and squared his shoulders because the chair he had been waiting for Cheekbones’ return had been awfully uncomfortable. The pair seemed to nod in an agreement Arthur was unaware of and parted ways. Cheekbones turned to him and pointed the stairs near him with his head; he took a big hold of the pine scented air and followed the other’s steps as they went upstairs. Soon they were inside Cheekbones’ old bedroom -or Arthur’s bedroom depending on how high he thought of himself- and when the door was closed, the sound of the music beneath them dried out quickly.

They looked at each other’s eyes for a good couple of seconds and something inside Arthur’s stomach felt strangely happy when he remembered the first time he had seen the other. At a common shop, over a chocolate’s craving. He might had seen, technically speaking Cheekbones’s hands first, but he couldn’t deny it had been the eyes -blue as... he didn’t want to say the ocean because he could feel the other deserved something far more creative and original like a blue whale (perhaps) but he wouldn’t say _that_ out loud- that had pulled even without Arthur realizing it into this strange wave of events.

“So, that was embarrassing” Cheekbones said, breaking the dead silence. They had somehow walked towards the other and were now standing one step away from actually touching. “Terrible timing, awful coordination, I think I lost a hand over a frostbite and I’m starving”

“Do you always complain this much?”

“Oh no, I complain far more”

“Well, if you are starving” Arthur said hesitantly, “You could go downstairs and eat something”

Cheekbones smiled at him and Arthur smelled the scent of his skin, feeling the radiation of the heat his body seemed to exude reaching his face. He closed his eyes because somehow, everything fall into pieces and he felt safe. “Arthur Arthur” Cheekbones whispered. Arthur opened his eyes briefly and saw he had the other man’s face practically on top of him as he spoke. “Were you born this clueless or do you practice it every day?”

At that moment, Arthur knew the other could be reciting the numbers of the phone book and he wouldn’t care one bit. As long as he keep using that tone on him that close, Arthur was more than prepared to let pass any childish (and adorable) insults he had in stored for him and he hoped he had many and that Arthur might have all the time in the world to listen to them.

And in one second, everything was fine. There was peace in the world, the blue whales were happy and Arthur was kissing someone on Christmas without the necessary pressure of having mistletoe over his head. The kiss tasted like joy and Cheekbones’s hands moved very blissfully too.

In all his years on this world, Arthur never thought he would find himself with his pants down on his knees while looking at a picture of a young Leonardo di Caprio but there he was and he wasn’t going to start complaining any time soon.

**~~~~~~**

Like he said before, exchanging presents: a difficult task, yet not an impossible one but when the person decided perhaps he did want to celebrate Christmas after all, then it was slightly trickier to achieve. At first, it had been difficult to convince Morgana to hoard his presents on her home without caving in to the impulse of opening them and letting everybody know he had bought them fountain pens. It was a hard lesson to learn but after that, Arthur learnt a) he had to be more creative when buying his presents and b) he had to pay Morgana for her silence with paid holidays. Luckily over those days, Arthur didn’t truly care too much for his free time.

“Open it” Arthur said the morning of Christmas’s day. Cheekbones positively glowed with the blue-like lights of a winter dawn; the scattered light that entered through a peak of the curtains (Star Wars curtains that is) made all of his angles, which he had many, even more breathtaking than before. Even when Arthur spent the entire night examining every possible inch of the other’s body, he couldn’t get enough of the slow realization he was still as incandescent as the first time he had seen him. 

“Can’t!” Cheekbones protested. “We need to go downstairs and open all the presents together” he whined. Arthur tried to explain him for the third time he couldn’t just burst in to their Christmas’s morning to open presents because he only had one gift thoroughly wrapped and it was for him. “They won’t care for it as long as we are there”

“Won’t they notice a complete stranger and be offended for it?” he asked feeling the length of Cheekbones’s back with his finger; he followed the trace all the way back to the end and smiled when the other’s skin reacted sensitively at his touch.

“If they didn’t get offended with you taking away my sacred virtue last night, they won’t care today” Cheekbones said cheekily. “Beside my mum adores you”

“Can’t you blame her?” he asked. Their feet were entangled with each other inside the covers of the bed, bare legs touching at all times and even though it had been snowing throughout most of the night, they were both warmly and safely tugged inside the bed. “I’m filled with bliss and joy”

Cheekbones held his face within his hands -one finger slightly cold grazed his cheek softly- and looked intensely into his eyes. Arthur still felt marbled on how he could still discovered some new shades of blue staring back at him (although he still couldn’t find a new metaphor to describe how beautiful they were, the blue whale one seemed still to be the top contender). Cheekbones kissed him like the world didn’t exist outside his room and for all that Arthur knew, the world might have ended while he was inside --after all, he would not have heard it happening. “Yes you are” he said to him.

Arthur felt a light bulb lightening inside his brain, as if the other’s kiss had some new properties that could cure lazy brain syndrome. He might save a fortune if he kept him by his side and stopped spending money on coffee. “You go downstairs, let me make a call”

And even thought they both found leaving the bed to be incredibly more difficult they could have guessed and their legs were shattered and both smelled of something no children should know what it smell for, Cheekbones went to gather his family and Arthur fetched his cell phone. If he found an old stash of magazines underneath the bed looking for his shoes and decided they might come in handy for the foreseeable future, he didn’t say.

**~~~~~~**

Sometimes things were so easy and simple, they just clicked in a place and then you couldn’t never unseen them. Like how perfect Gwen and Hunith could talked for an entire hour on the benefits of baking twenty cakes in one day, or how many dirty jokes could one man beat the other as Gwaine found his counterpart in Cheekbones’s best friend Will who also happened to be Freya’s husband -the woman of the car at last had a proper name- who was a nurse that worked in the same hospital where Lance did his rounds.

Arthur knew things could have gotten exponentially more awkward if Morgana hadn’t arrived with his presents. She didn’t look very pleased, probably because she either didn’t sleep at all or was still very much drunk, but she did her best and gave Hunith her sweetest smile she had in her repertoire.

Arthur couldn’t believe his good luck. In practically two weeks he had gotten himself not only with the necessary strength to celebrate Christmas happily like everybody else but also, he had found a group of people he could see himself celebrating many other holidays he had ran away from before.

When his eyes locked with Cheekbones across the living and saw his perfect white neck (with a tiny tiny bite mark of Arthur’s authorship, thank you very much) covered with the red scarf he had bought for him he knew he could very much believe his good fortune after all.

 

THE END.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ending might be too cheezy but it's Christmas and we all deserve some cheezyness over the holidays.  
> Thank you all for reading and have a happy new year, lots of love ! :)


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